


'Tis Happiness to Die...Or is it?

by Ardent_Autumn



Category: Othello - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Also rated for Othello's suicide attempts, Bianca is only briefly mentioned in Chapter 3, Desdemona is only mentioned here, F/M, Her death has already happened, I keep updating the tags oops, M/M, Minor Violence, No Gore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rated for Desdemona's death, Yes I have added a 17th Century English monarch as a character, You'll find out why eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 53,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25013287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardent_Autumn/pseuds/Ardent_Autumn
Summary: In the play, Othello kills Desdemona then kills himself, and nobody tries to stop him.What if Othello doesn't end up dying?
Relationships: Cassio & Othello (Othello), Cassio/Roderigo (Othello), Desdemona/Othello, Iago/Othello
Comments: 54
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some fiction that explores the possibility of Othello remaining alive at the end of the play. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Originally already posted this chapter a few days ago, but decided to re-post it after making a few small edits.

Desdemona is dead. It is too late.

Othello is perfectly aware that there are other people in the room, watching him, yet he cares not - his focus is not on any of them.   
He wraps his arms around Desdemona’s lifeless body and weeps, weeping for her demise, his guilt, her faith and chastity that had existed all along. Othello holds her close, tears dripping onto her pale, marble-white skin, leaving the faintest of all marks. But there is nothing that can be done.  
Desdemona is dead.

Lodovico, Gratiano, Montano and Cassio are all standing [and sitting] round, their expressions still vaguely filled with shock and horror regarding the sudden events. But they are also sympathetic, their expressions creased with sympathy as they watch Othello sob all over Desdemona. Not that it does any good. His tears and his repentance cannot do anything to salvage the situation.   
Desdemona is dead.

The only person in the room looking less than sympathetic is Iago. In fact, he looks purely unsympathetic, standing there defiantly with his arms crossed, under close observation by the two officers that are holding him prisoner. His face is devoid of expression. Evidently, he doesn’t care a jot about the losses. Iago has done his work - he manipulated everyone, framed Cassio, slandered Desdemona, tricked Othello, killed Roderigo, attacked Cassio, killed Emilia…and ultimately, helped Othello kill Desdemona, although not literally by his own hand. It was through his insinuations, his hints. His lies.

Of course, Othello knows now that none of it was true. He’s internally reprimanding himself for ever suspecting his gentle Desdemona of such a crime. He now realises that she was indeed heavenly true.  
But his acknowledgement of the fact cannot change anything.  
Desdemona is dead.

Othello is so busy with embracing and sobbing on Desdemona that he scarcely hears Lodovico approaching him. The latter pats him on the shoulder, the brief touch a small demonstration of the amount of sympathy and empathy that he feels towards the general. That same general is completely broken.

‘Othello, you must leave this room; come with us. You are stripped of your power and command, and Cassio now rules over Cyprus,’ He pauses. Aims a glare at Iago. ‘As for this hellish villain,’ He continues. ‘We are going to give him whatever torture we can devise that is both painful, but not deadly. We are prolonging his life to let him suffer. Come, take him away.’

Lodovico and the others start to leave the room. Perhaps it’s the noise that their movement makes, perhaps it’s just sheer timing - but at that point, Othello momentarily breaks out of his trance.  
He has got only one thing on his mind.  
Desdemona is dead.  
Which is why he has to do what he has to do.

‘Please, allow me to speak a few words before you go.’ Othello requests, standing up to face everyone. They all turn back, curious and nervous. Othello sounds dangerously calm considering the situation, and it’s difficult to tell whether he’s just going to talk or turn to violence.

‘I pray, do not look so timorous. I just want to speak a few words before you depart,’ Othello says carefully, walking closer and closer so that he’s face-to-face with Lodovico.

The diplomat nods cautiously. Then he discreetly steps backwards a pace.  
Othello takes the opportunity. He’s got several different emotions attacking him inside, an amalgamation of rage, resentment, guilt, loss, sorrow…the list felt endless.

‘As you all know, I have done the state of Venice quite a bit of service, and they know it. In your letters, please speak of me exactly as you see me now - do not exaggerate or downplay the events for my benefit. Speak of me as a man who, I confess, did not love wisely, but too much; a man not easily made jealous, but being manipulated, was tricked into extreme jealousy. Describe me as a man who was not used to crying, but now, standing here, as a man whose tears fall faster than an Arabian tree dripping with its sap. I beseech you, write down all of this. Also, include how I once saw a malevolent Turk beating an innocent Venetian and undermining the state. Recall how I, upon seeing the assault, grabbed the enemy Turk by his throat…’

Othello pauses briefly, taking a few seconds to consolidate his final thoughts. But there is only one.  
Desdemona is dead.

‘…I struck him down. He died instantly on impact. I did it like this…’

Without uttering another word, Othello swiftly reaches under his bed and grabs a sword.  
Iago looks indifferent. Gratiano looks wary. Lodovico, Montano and Cassio look taken aback -  
but none of them seem to make any move to stop him.

Othello doesn’t see any of them. He’s too lost in his own thoughts, his impending death. He swiftly holds the sword up, positions it, and is just about to finish himself off, when…

Suddenly, he feels the sword being pulled out of his hand just as he starts to bring it down. His aim distorts a little as it gets taken, and the sword ends up jabbing the other person in the arm.   
Othello’s vision is still a little foggy from being so caught up in his own thoughts, but he can hear that same someone muttering faintly under their breath, their words almost becoming profanities…but not quite.

It was Cassio’s voice. Cassio had just disarmed him.


	2. The Only One He Has Left.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Cassio disarms Othello, the latter contemplates why he suddenly feels so attached to him [not in a romantic way.]
> 
> Lodovico and Gratiano explain what's going to happen to Othello, and neither he nor Cassio are particularly happy about it - but the original plans are then interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may sound like there's romance between Othello and Cassio, but I swear that's not my intention-
> 
> *Minor references to blood and suicide in this chapter.*

Othello blinks, his vision clearing. He sees Cassio hand Othello’s sword to Montano before proceeding to examine the damage done to his arm.   
It’s a bit bloody, certainly, but nothing too serious. Nowhere near as bad as the damage that had been done to his leg. Othello wonders if Cassio did even more damage to it by rushing forward to stop him.

‘How did you do that?’ Othello asks quietly, gesturing to his leg. ‘I thought your leg-’

Cassio stops trying to half-heartedly wipe the blood off of his sleeve. He looks at Othello and shrugs.

‘I didn’t really think in the moment. But I knew what you were going to do, and I didn’t want to watch and let it happen,’ Cassio laughs shakily. ‘It’s okay though. No damage done.’

  
Othello arches his eyebrows and gestures to the red spot on Cassio’s left sleeve.  
Cassio smiles faintly. ‘Well, other than that. But ‘tis no big deal.’

Othello lets no words pass his lips for several seconds. He watches as Montano gives him a wary look before he attaches Othello’s sword to his belt along with his own, obviously not trusting anyone enough to simply put it on the floor. Iago sighs and yawns nearby.

Othello then watches Cassio go back to attending to his arm, with Lodovico and Gratiano assisting him [for his leg made him off-balance]. As he watched, he began to wonder how on earth he could have doubted his former lieutenant in the first place. Cassio had always been completely loyal to him, never once stepping out of line or getting himself into trouble.   
The only time Othello had ever had to rebuke him was after the drunken brawl that had taken place only a day or two ago. Even then, that wasn’t really Cassio’s fault - Iago had manipulated him and gotten him drunk despite his reluctance.   
Othello knew that now.

And now, Cassio had risked his own injuries just to stop him from committing suicide.

If that wasn’t true loyalty, then Othello didn’t know what was.

‘I may wish that you had not done so, but…thank you, Cassio, for stopping me,’ Othello mumbles.

Cassio glances up at him again. He gives Othello another small smile. ‘You are welcome.’

It’s obvious that he is feeling a little awkward, even a little nervous, around Othello at the moment.  
Othello cannot blame him for that. After all, he had only found out a few minutes ago that both he and Iago had plotted to have him murdered. No wonder he was feeling a little anxious.

‘Othello, you must come with us,’ Lodovico repeats his words from a few minutes ago. He sounds as wary as everyone else looks [apart from Iago, naturally.]

Othello sighs deeply. He only wanted to make things right; to take responsibility for his actions by killing himself. Maybe he would have gone to Hell, maybe to Heaven. But all he really wants right now is to see his beloved Desdemona once more.  
But his plans have been foiled and he has no other options.

‘Where to, may I ask?’ Othello asks curiously.  
 _Maybe they are going to take me prisoner too. Maybe they’re going to take me to a mental institution…or maybe they’re going to give me the same fate as that hellish villain._

‘Why, back to Venice,’ Lodovico responds as if it’s simple. ‘Gratiano and I were going to go back to Venice tomorrow morning, but…’ He pauses, his gaze shifting towards Desdemona and Emilia’s lifeless bodies, then towards Othello, before finally resting on Iago for a few seconds. Then Lodovico glances away, looking pained. He cannot bear to even look at the damned slave. ‘…well, considering the tragedy that has happened tonight, ’tis best that we set sail straight away to inform the Duke of everything that has unfolded,’ He finishes finally.

Gratiano nods. ‘That is right,’ He adds. ‘The Duke had called you back to Venice anyway, and besides, we are going to need to keep an eye on you.’ He too, glances briefly over at Iago. ‘I do not think we will be taking Iago with us, though.’

Lodovico shakes his head. ‘No, we are not,’ He concedes. ‘Governor Cassio is in charge of his torture, so Iago will be remaining on this island - away in the dungeons, of course.’

‘So I have got to leave this island with you, leaving my former lieutenant behind with my former ensign who has proven to be capable of crime?’ Othello asks, frowning slightly. He feels reluctant.

‘Well, yes. But he is the governor now.’

Othello sighs again. Maybe he was simply too sentimental after everything that had happened, but he really, really did not want to leave Cassio behind. _Especially_ not with Iago.

Cassio doesn’t say anything in objection or acceptance, but it's clear that he is not happy about it either.

Othello then briefly thinks about everything that has occurred.  
He’s lost his divine and virtuous wife, the wife that, just a few days prior, he had sworn to never stop loving. To never leave her side.

Of course, it’s the other way round. Desdemona has left _his_ side, but through no fault of her own. She died a guiltless death; Othello blames himself.

He’s also more or less lost his ensign. The one person that Othello had felt closest and most bound to over the last day. The person whom Othello thought he could trust whole-heartedly - he had confided in Iago several times over the last 24 hours. Only to find out that…Iago had hated him the entire time. He’d been plotting against him, preparing to make his life a misery.

Well, it’s mission accomplished. Othello has never felt more wretched than he does now.

Then it finally clicks. The reason why Othello is so hesitant to leave Cassio in Cyprus.  
It is not _just_ because he is Othello’s loyal, former lieutenant. It is also because he is the only person Othello has left.

Othello’s closest companions had always been Iago, Desdemona, Cassio himself - and Emilia, although she had been Desdemona’s attendant and closer to her as a result - but Emilia had always been quite a charming friend to him, and she was nice to have around. She wasn’t a bit like what her husband had turned out to be.

The Duke always respected and supported him, but Othello had felt like the Duke was his superior - his boss, more than a close companion. As for Brabantio, well…he was dead now, but he had certainly turned against Othello when he’d found out about his elopement with Desdemona. Othello could have sworn that he’d never heard so many racial stereotypes and insults hurled at him all at once, not even during the seemingly endless years he’d endured as a slave.

Lodovico’s nice enough, a proper man in his own right, and someone whom also respected Othello. Although his view has probably changed, he is doing his best to be sympathetic and reassuring. Othello likes Lodovico, but he does not know him all that well, and definitely not on a personal level - he he’s only ever seen him around Venice and in several council meetings before moving to Cyprus. Ditto Gratiano, whom he scarcely knows at all.

Cassio’s the only one he has left. His only close member of his army, and his close friend.   
Othello has no idea what Cassio thinks of him presently, whether or not he hated him for plotting his murder with Iago. Othello sincerely hoped that was not the case - he just needed a good opportunity to apologise more profusely. To show Cassio that he had acted in a fallacious manner. He had been erroneous and would never doubt him _or_ try to plot against him ever again.

Othello glances at him once again. The other’s face seems carefully expressionless as he finally succeeds in getting the wound on his arm under control, but Othello looks carefully and notices the dismay in his eyes, the isolation. He is, in essence, just as alone now.  
Before Othello looks away, Cassio looks up and catches Othello’s gaze. He says nothing, simply shooting the former general a small, sad smile.

His courtesy and manners won’t permit him to openly object to the decision, no matter how against it he may be.

He _does_ emit a deep sigh, followed shortly after by Othello, and although it is not a complete representation of how he feels towards the prospect of being left on Cyprus, it’s loud enough and sounds disconsolate enough for Montano to hear [Lodovico and Gratiano were busily making sure that Iago was handcuffed firmly enough to prevent any sudden escape.]

He looks at Cassio curiously. “Is something the matter, governor?” He questions, a brief flicker of awkwardness showing on his face. It’s weird enough for him to be replaced as the governor of Cyprus as it is, but now that his successor has been replaced in just a day or so…that made it even more weird. And abrupt. Evidently it’s going to take him a bit of getting used to.

‘What? Uh, no, no…Everything is fine,’ Cassio responds, murmuring a little.

Othello watches the awkwardness flash across Cassio’s face as Montano continues to question him. His opposition to being left whilst Othello moves back to Venice is the thing that is troubling him the most - but he just cannot bring himself to say so. He does not want to be any trouble, or make things any harder for anyone than what they already are.

Othello, however, sees it as a situation where desperate times call for desperate measures.  
He _cannot_ leave Cassio. He needs the company from his last surviving close companion. He is the only other person who may be able to relate to him at all.

‘Please, can I say something?’ Othello requests, trying not to twitch as everyone turns to stare.

Lodovico is frowning. ‘You are not going to try and kill yourself again, are you?’

Othello wants to roll his eyes, but is fully aware that it would come across as disrespectful. And considering his current position, that would not be a good impression.

‘No, I will not,’ Othello reassures him. He takes a deep breath, trying to muster up as much dignity as he can. Trying to look at least a little bit as noble as he used to be.  
‘I just wanted to ask…are you sure I have to return to Venice?’

Lodovico gives him a confused look. ‘Yes - the Duke is expecting you there anyway, and you need to be spoken to by the Venetian government to find out what is going to happen with you.’

Othello cannot stop the disconcerting feeling that grips him upon hearing that.  
What did Lodovico mean? Was he going to be thrown into prison too? Was he going to get sentenced to the same torture as Iago?

Meanwhile, Cassio looks even more discontented, his expression betraying far more emotion now than it was a moment ago: discomfort, isolation and worry. 

‘What do you mean, finding out what is going to happen with Othello?’ Cassio asks. His tone of voice makes it clear that he has an issue with the idea of Othello possibly being subject to some form of punishment of his own.

‘He killed his wife-- my niece, governor,’ Gratiano pointed out, sounding like he’s trying to keep it together. ‘He is not necessarily going to be getting away with this unscathed, unfortunate as it may be. The government in Venice will most likely charge him in some way for his hand in the murder.’

Cassio frowns. He doesn’t like what he is hearing at all.

‘But surely they will see that Othello isn’t really to blame? Okay, so maybe it was a bit extreme - but he was completely tricked and manipulated, thrown into psychological torture and grief! Especially now that Desdemona is dead. Othello knows that she was innocent now; he has to live with the torture of knowing that he killed Desdemona despite her faith - which, I repeat, was not really his fault. So surely he has already had punishment enough?’

Lodovico and Gratiano are both silenced. They’re looking at each other doubtfully, as if considering the points that Cassio has just made. Was Othello punished enough, or did he need more?  
Eventually, Lodovico sighs sympathetically, and looks at both Cassio and Othello.

‘I can understand why the two of you do not want to leave one another,’ He says gently. ‘And I am sure Othello is not going to be _punished_ as such - but the Duke has requested Othello’s return, and even though he knows not about all of this, he will probably still expect Othello to come with us nonetheless - so that he can get the whole story out of him, I would have guessed.’

Gratiano nods in agreement. ‘I would not make the two of you separate if we had the choice,’ He adds. ‘But it is the Duke - he is in charge of Venice and theoretically, everyone’s boss. We cannot disobey him.’

Cassio and Othello send each other resigned and dismayed expressions. Neither of them want to leave the other’s company, but they are getting no choice in the matter.

Before anyone can voice anything else, justification, objection or otherwise, a messenger suddenly hurries into the room. He’s got a letter with him, which he hands to Lodovico and Gratiano.

‘I just got told to give this to you. ’Tis from the Duke,’ He explains. ‘Apparently it is important.’

Lodovico and Gratiano unfold the letter between them and begin to read it. It’s not particularly long, about the length of one of Roderigo’s letters of complaint to Iago, and the two of them finish reading it in a minute or less.

Gratiano carefully folds the letter back up again whilst Lodovico turns to Othello.

‘We have just been informed by the Duke’s letter that we will not be returning to Venice straight away after all. It is not safe to do so - apparently another storm has started back up on the sea, so travelling back to Venice is out of the question until the storm has subsided.’

‘Oh, right,’ Othello tries not to sound as pleased as he feels. On the outside. But on the inside, he’s mightily relieved, and hopeful too - maybe he will be able to convince them to allow him to stay in Cyprus if he’s going to be staying there for a little while anyway.

‘So will Othello be allowed to remain in the Citadel?’ Cassio queries. He’s not making it too evident on his face, but he’s relieved at the sudden change of plans too.

‘Probably not,’ Lodovico sighs. He shifts uncomfortably. ‘See, Othello might be viewed as too much of a risk to remain here…besides, it might bring back too many painful memories.’

‘But if he is not going to be staying here, where is he going to be staying?’ Cassio demands.

‘Perhaps a safe-house? Or- or maybe under house arrest. I know not,’ Lodovico says uneasily.

Othello bristles a little at the idea of being put under any kind of observation, but he doesn’t protest - after all, Desdemona’s death was his own fault. He could not possibly hide that from anyone - not even himself. It was enough of a surprise that he was not going to be imprisoned for it.  
Still, he’s okay with it if that meant he could remain on Cyprus with Cassio - but if he was under house arrest of any kind, how would he be able to see his former lieutenant?

Just then, a thought strikes him.

‘Wait a minute,’ Othello gestures to Cassio. ‘If Cassio is the governor now, should he not be the one who has a say in this?’

Lodovico blinks, faintly surprised, then he nods slowly. ‘That is…a very good point,’ He admits. ‘I had forgotten that Cassio has been put in charge now. But yes, I suppose he should.’

Cassio folds his arms; stands up straighter. He’s trying to look at least a little authoritative now.

‘In that case, I would like to suggest that Othello resides in my lodgings for now - not sharing the same bed,’ Cassio adds indignantly, turning to glare at Iago who’s sitting and snickering suggestively in the background. ‘I have a spare bed, and it might be nice for the two of us to keep each other company, considering- considering everything that has happened.’ He turns to Othello. ‘What do you think? Would you like that, or would you prefer somewhere else?’

For a moment, Othello doesn’t respond. He’s marvelling at how quickly Cassio is able to switch to a nature of leadership. He really was a true soldier at heart, and probably an even better governor.

‘Yes. Yes, I would like that very much. Thank you, lieu- governor,’ Othello says, smiling gratefully. 

Lodovico and Gratiano are glancing at each other again. Neither of them look like they think this is a sufficient idea, but they cannot object: Cassio is the one in power. Instead, they nod in acceptance.

‘If it makes the two of you feel better, then ’tis a reasonable decision,’ Gratiano says eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might change some of the other words to Old English at some point, if I can be bothered and if I can actually make sense of what I've written when doing so!


	3. I Am To Blame.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Othello reflects on everything that has happened over the last few hours. His thoughts start to overwhelm him, and with Cassio not being awake to comfort him, things are not looking good...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *There are a few references to suicide in this chapter, though there is no blood, gore or any graphic depictions.*
> 
> I made a brief edit to this just to include a bit of information towards Cassio and Bianca's...dare I say, 'relationship'.

A couple of hours later, Othello’s lying awake in the spare bed in Cassio’s room.

The former is asleep in a nearby bed, not making so much as a peep. He does not seem to talk or even snore at all, which Othello isn’t really surprised about. The prospect of his former lieutenant [now governor] talking in his sleep was obviously another lie made up by Iago, much like his so-called “erotic dream” had been as well.

Othello still feels extremely guilty for consenting in the death of Cassio, and for just ever doubting him at all; he had tried to apologise several more times on their way to the lodgings, but he’d gotten the impression that Cassio was not really paying much attention, not because he was being ignorant, but because he was focusing more on walking without aggravating his injuries.

Othello decides that he shall repeat his repertoire of apologies to Cassio tomorrow - he just cannot stop voicing them. Everything that he’d been tricked into doing is eating him up inside; he cannot stop internally berating himself for his mistakes, his irrational actions, the tragedy that he partly caused.  
Virtually all of the others maintained that Othello was not completely at fault, and that Iago’s deceptions had been the main cause, but he just could not get rid of the huge, acid ball of resentment and guilt that was building up inside of him. He would never be able to forgive himself.

Desdemona was truly the sweetest soul to have ever lived. She had never been anything but completely loyal and obedient to him, and the entire time he had been suspecting her, she had simply been trying to help one of his officers out due to her good-will and nature. She did not deserve her death.

Even when she was on her death-bed, Desdemona had reacted completely passively, even trying to spare Othello of any possible retribution by blaming herself for her own murder.

_‘Nobody - I did this to myself. Commend me to my kind lord. Oh, f_ _arewell…’_

Though he had remained harsh and hating at the time [and he deeply regrets that now] Othello had felt a little spark of love for his beloved wife when she’d said that. Out of his two conflicting emotions of husband and soldier, his status as a husband was evidently trying to shine through.   
If only it had shone through earlier - then none of this would have happened.

‘My dear Desdemona,’ Othello murmurs softly. ‘My dear Desdemona…dead. Dead Desdemona.’

His thoughts are gradually getting jumbled up again. His focus turns fully to his divine Desdemona…the fact that she is dead. In Heaven, an angel, which was fitting because she was certainly the most angelic woman he’d ever known. Othello desperately wants to join her in the afterlife. He wants to be reunited with his love - there are so many things that he hasn’t told her, so many profuse apologies that have not been exchanged. 

Othello feels a strong desire for Desdemona’s warm embrace, her golden blonde locks, her soft and gentle voice, so chock full of charm and innocence…  
He hankers after them but knows he cannot have them. Not whilst he remains on earth. Alive.  
I need to be dead, I need to be dead. I need to redeem myself by giving myself the same fate.

Othello knows that he promised everyone else not to try and commit suicide again, and as a former general, he should really be keeping his word - but now, he cares little about that. His reputation can be tarnished as far as he is concerned - ‘tis a small price to pay to be able to get his lover back again. Just one small touch of her pearly white skin, smoother than the world’s finest marble; a brush against those dainty little lips, so soft and smooth that they made kissing feel like a joyous pastime.

Life to Othello seems like it would be meaningless without his wife. So what has he got to lose?

He’s thinking about all of Desdemona’s qualities now. Remembering them to their fullest.  
It’s not a good idea at all. All this does is further prompt Othello into attempting to take his life again, which is easier than it sounds - although Othello had his own weapons confiscated, he knows that Cassio has a sword somewhere, and even if his search for it proved futile, there’s a bathroom. With a bath. If he needed water, all he’d really have to do was go collect some from a nearby river. It certainly is an option, but not quite…painful enough. Othello wants to match Desdemona’s pain that he’d relentlessly put her in by smothering her with that pillow. 

_Pillow._

Othello pauses; glances down at the pillow that he was resting his head on just a minute ago.  
He could suffocate himself with the pillow, give himself a taste of his own medicine. Carefully, he holds the pillow up with a shaking hand, testing it’s strength and thickness.  
Unfortunately, it’s quite a flat pillow [though surprisingly comfortable] and Othello knows that it just would not do for what he wants to achieve. He needs something better than that.

He glances around the room, his eyes well-adjusted to the dark which allows him to make out the shapes of other objects in the room. He’s looking for something, anything that he can use to give himself a one-way journey up to Heaven to meet up with his darling Desdemona once more,  
and as luck [to him] would have it, Othello spots Cassio’s sword leaning up against his wooden washstand, both of which are directly opposite from his bed. 

It is the perfect opportunity, and although he knows that, deep down, what he’s doing is immoral considering his promise, Othello just cannot help himself. He wants to see Desdemona again - it hasn’t been more than a few hours since her death, but just that small amount of time feels agonising to him. He cannot even begin to imagine what a full day or a week away from her would feel like.

Which is why he is not going to let himself imagine; he is not going to let himself experience it either.

Slowly, carefully, Othello eases himself out of bed, careful to remain quiet lest he wake up Cassio.  
He stands staring over at the sword for an entire minute, his heart thumping.  
Was he really ready to take the dramatic step in killing himself? Was it the right choice? What if he still ended up in Hell and not Heaven? He and Desdemona would then be parted forever.

Othello clenches his fists. Reality is not worth living without his love. Whether or not he flies up to Heaven or tumbles down to Hell is a risk he is willing to take, just for a chance to meet up with his angel somewhere in Heaven. He is willing to throw away his life, because to him, life without his love made death seem like bittersweet happiness.

He had promised Cassio and the others that he wasn’t going to do anything, but now he’s being overwhelmed with his thoughts and psychological issues created as a result of his actions, and he cannot keep that promise. The psychological pain is too overpowering; he has to stop it now.

Othello tip-toes quickly but quietly over towards Cassio’s washstand where the sword is leaning.  
The moonlight shining in from a nearby window causes the blade of the sword to glint at Othello invitingly, though his thoughts are so confused that it feels to him like the sword is mocking him, which only heightens his desire and motivations to leave the world and the pain he feels within it.

When he is within a few feet of the sword, Othello suddenly hesitates as he thinks about the man sleeping just a few metres away. Someone whom Othello needed for company. Cassio was the only person that Othello had left now…and vice versa.  
Othello briefly wonders if he is being cruel by leaving Cassio, causing himself to pause in his tracks. He begins thinking about how Cassio might react. He would be crushed, certainly, considering that Othello is more or less his last surviving close friend from before.

Othello begins to feel guilty for leaving Cassio on top of his guilt for killing his wife. However, the guilt for the former is quickly weighed out by a sudden new thought.

_You deserve this._

It sounded ominous, so much so that Othello looked around to see if it had actually been mentioned by the Devil himself and not by his own guilt-ridden musings.

_You tried to have Cassio killed too. You don’t deserve his hospitality or kindness. Killing yourself would be the only form of redemption for everything that you’ve done recently._

Othello acknowledges this as true. He has had this thought over and over again - redeeming himself for his actions only seems possible if he were to mirror the biggest crime he had committed on his wife - murder. Killing her, therefore needing to kill himself to balance things out.

The succeeding thoughts prompts Othello to keep on going. Once again, he tip-toes as quietly and as quickly as he can towards the wooden washstand, his eyes fixed on his goal. He gets there in no time at all, locating the hilt of the sword with similar ease. Now all that he needs to do is actually use it on himself.

However, as luck would have it [or bad luck depending on the perspective] Cassio stirs from his sleep, having been woken up by something or other. He props himself up on one elbow and looks directly over at Othello with bleary eyes. His mind is so fogged with sleep that he doesn’t seem to focus properly at first - before he realises with a jolt exactly what Othello has in his hands.

Othello stares at Cassio, looking like a deer caught in the headlights [although there was actually little light in the room.] The latter, without a moment’s hesitation, springs out of bed [wincing as he aggravates his leg injury] and rushes over to Othello, placing his hand over the hand already gripping the hilt of the sword to prevent any sudden action, whether it be reflex or conscious.

‘Othello,’ Cassio his name in grave monotone, his voice nearly sotto. ‘What are you doing?’

Othello gazes at the governor of Cyprus, guilt etching his features. He’s been caught red-handed.  
He doesn’t say anything though. There’s nothing that he can think of saying that would possibly explain why he was stood at Cassio’s washstand, gripping his sword, and he doesn’t want to say the truth of what he was about to do - it made it sound too realistic.

Cassio fixes Othello with a similarly grave look. ‘You were going to try and take your life again, weren’t you?’

Othello sighs deeply and nods in response. He cannot hide the truth, not from Cassio.

That same person regards Othello with an imploring gaze.

‘Why do you want to do this?’ He asks quietly. He’s no longer standing firm and confident, and his expression has gone from being grave to being reproachful. ‘I don’t intend to guilt-trip you when I say this, but…I don’t want you to leave me, Othello, I pray you.’

Othello studies Cassio’s face. Every bit of his expression, and even his eyes, betrays the utter misery and desolation that he’s obviously feeling but doing his best to keep back so that he can focus on Othello’s struggles and feelings. Othello catches all of this simply from Cassio’s facial expression - and he abruptly lets the sword slide out of his grip, the clatter of it hitting the floor almost deafening in the silence that’s permeating the room.

Cassio looks slightly relieved. ‘Well, this is a start,’ He says gently, picking his sword up off of the floor and keeping hold of it just to be on the safe side.

He’s being so gentle and looking so concerned that Othello suddenly feels overwhelmed with emotion. He has never usually gone in for hugging people - but he instantaneously throws his arms around Cassio all of a sudden and starts hugging him. He quietly returns the favour and pats Othello on the back as he does so, attempting to be consoling.

Then Othello starts sobbing on his shoulder.  
Cassio doesn’t push away or tell him to get a grip - he simply allows Othello to go ahead, sighing in deep sympathy and empathy for the former general as he lets his emotions loose.

‘I will not tell anyone about this,’ Cassio whispers.

Evidently he knows that it’s not considered 'manly' or 'masculine' to cry or express one’s emotions in such a heartfelt manner, but so what? Othello has every reason to do so, and he feels increasingly grateful to Cassio, glad he’s only in his company.

‘Come on,’ Cassio continues softly. ‘Rather than keeping your emotions in and allowing it to come to extreme lengths, why don’t we talk about it?’

Othello gratefully accepts. Cassio leads him over to a chair on the opposite side of the room and pulls up another chair next to him. It’s as if he is attempting to get Othello as far away from the dropped sword as possible, which is completely understandable. He waits for Othello to speak.

Othello takes the silence as a hint and starts to tell Cassio everything - his guilt that consumes him over the death of his wife, and that same guilt over consenting in Cassio’s death; how he just wants to be with Desdemona and tell her everything that he hasn’t had the opportunity to tell her - starting with some sincere apologies, of course. Othello continues, explaining how he feels that killing himself would be like an act of redemption - subjecting himself to the same fate as he subjected his wife to. After all, she died when she was purely innocent, so why should he not be when he is rasher than the Devil himself?

‘Do I not deserve to die?’ Othello asks Cassio miserably. ‘I killed my own wife and wanted you dead. Neither of you ever gave me cause - it was just my irrational jealousy and insecurities. I let them get the better of me, and this is what hath happened as a result. I am to blame.’

Cassio listens patiently; then he shakes his head insistently. ‘No, Othello, you do not. And you are not to blame either. You were manipulated by Iago - he tricked you.’

Othello shakes his head. He is not convinced, for all Cassio is quite clearly trying his best to get him to look at the situation differently and to not lay the blame on himself. 

‘But I let him. I did not question it enough; I assumed things, like when you and Iago were talking about Bianca. I automatically assumed that you were talking about Desdemona,’ He points out gloomily. “Or when Iago told me about your dream you supposedly had when he slept in your bed with you recently--’

Cassio frowns in confusion, suddenly sidetracked. ‘What did you just say?’

Othello blinks. ‘Iago said he slept in your bed with you recently?’

Cassio stares at Othello, his mouth open slightly in shock. ‘ _What?’_ He splutters and shakes his head as if he’s unable to comprehend what was just said. ‘He seriously said that? I can assure you that he has not - for a start, he is not hom--’ Cassio pauses, as if suddenly realising that the discussion has digressed away from what they were supposed to be talking about. ‘Never mind.’

Now Othello looks curious. ‘What were you going to say?’ He inquires.

Cassio waves his hand. ‘I will tell you in a minute…but let us not worry about that now.’

Slightly unsettled, he switches back to the topic from beforehand. ‘Othello, Iago manipulated all of us, do you not see? He manipulated you, me, Lodovico, Montano, Roderigo…everyone, to varying degrees,’ He insists. ‘And you could say that I am just as much at fault here. I let Iago pressure me into drinking when I knew about my weakness, did I not? You could argue that if I had not gotten drunk, I would not have been demoted, and thus would not have had any reason to appeal to Desdemona. Then Iago probably would not have been able to develop his plots so well.’

Othello thinks about it. Although he refuses to place the blame on anyone else, especially not Cassio because he is being so kind to him - the latter does make a good point though. Theoretically, everyone was involved in Iago’s plots somehow - they all unwittingly contributed to the schemes, their weaknesses and characteristics exploited to aid the plots and help them gradually develop over time. His own jealousy; Desdemona’s virtue; Cassio’s trust and low alcohol tolerance; Roderigo’s lovesickness; Emilia’s loyalty - they all came together to help form that truly horrendous web of deceit and lies that Iago had shamelessly spun around them. If they were all severely moral, they could even hold themselves partially responsible.

Which is exactly what Cassio seems to be doing, Othello notes. It makes him feel a little better - less guilty, less... _accountable_ for everything.

‘You are right,’ Othello says eventually, sighing softly. He gives the governor a smile, even though tears are still dripping down his cheeks and falling softly on to the floor, before dissolving into the floorboards.  
Cassio pretends not to notice them and simply smiles back, looking exponentially relieved, probably because he was able to avert what could have been a disaster.

Cassio discreetly hands Othello some tissues and the latter proceeds to dry his eyes with said tissues. As he does so, he muses over what Cassio was saying about Iago before. He’d been about to call Iago something, but he’d cut himself off…and now Othello is rather curious to know exactly what he had been going to say, whether it be an insult or a compliment or even just a general suggestion. Before he asks, though, Othello has another question.

This Bianca…is she your mistress?’ Othello asks, faintly curious. After all, he knew naught about the woman that Cassio and Iago had been referring to whilst he was hiding in the shadows in a state of irrational jealousy. He’s a little confused as to Cassio’s relationship with that same woman, for he did not seem to speak particularly highly of her.

‘No, and she never was such. She seemed to assume that we were in a relationship of some kind, though I never gave her hints. And at this stage, she wants no more to do with me - not after her unfair arrest yesterday, of which she gave me the blame,’

‘Oh. I see. Apologies that you were blamed. Are you upset by it?’

‘In troth, not particularly. She had a habit of becoming jealous too easily.’

‘I see. So, um…’ Othello cocks his head slightly to the side. ‘What were you going to say about Iago?’

Cassio leans back in his chair, clicking his tongue thoughtfully, making it seem as though he feels completely casual - but Othello can tell that just thinking about what Iago had said made him feel a little awkward and uncomfortable, even a little embarrassed, despite it being false.

‘Well, with what you told me about Iago…the “erotic dream” and all - you said that Iago claimed he was sleeping in the same bed as me, right? And that he made up and went into detail about an alleged “dream” that I had?’ Cassio checks he’s got the details right, and as he does so, he cannot help cringing at the thought of the situation that Iago had detailed.

Othello nods uncertainly. ‘Right,’ He confirms, bemused.

‘Well, I was thinking, that maybe-- maybe Iago is homosexual.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I read over this, I picture Othello and Cassio having a good old hug and I can't help smiling. Pity Shakespeare didn't add a few hugs here and there in the stage directions.


	4. Love - A Friendly Thing or a Romantic Thing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief chapter where Othello and Cassio discuss the idea of Iago loving the former - literally, loving him more than a friend.

Othello stares at Cassio the second that he lets the suggestion slip. The idea of it seems so absurd that he wants to burst out laughing in response to it…but then he actually thinks about the prospect…and quite a few things suddenly start to make more sense than they did a moment ago.

‘Perhaps you are right,’ Othello murmurs thoughtfully. ‘It would explain why he was always declaring that he loved me. I thought that was out of friendship, but maybe…?’

Cassio nods. ‘Perhaps he did not mean it like that,’ He suggests. ‘Plus he hath always been a bit of a misogynist - look at how he treated poor Emilia, and she was his wife.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps Iago liked you in that way, and that was why he was trying to wreck your marriage. It could be why he always declared that he loved you. Repeatedly.’

Othello lets out a breath that he doesn’t even realise he’s holding. Somehow, that one mere suggestion about a possible aspect of Iago made everything make far more sense than it had done previously.

Okay, so nothing would ever justify Iago practically damning his soul and tricking him so terribly. But if there was a chance that Iago had homosexual feelings, for him no less, then his jealousy had probably gotten the better of him…much like Othello’s own jealousy had, causing him to kill his dear Desdemona.

In all honesty, Othello cannot believe that he did not pick up on this sooner. Now that Cassio had voiced the suggestion, it just seems so obvious. There had been several hints just recently that evidenced the claim. 

A significant example was Iago’s actions when Othello had vowed to kill Desdemona. He had acted so fervently, even going as far as taking Othello’s hand and kneeling next to him. Along with the fact that he frequently professed his love [which Othello had originally thought was nothing but a move of friendship] the evidence certainly seemed to match up. 

Now that he’s aware of it, Othello is tempted to try and find Iago, wherever he’s been taken, and question him about it. Perhaps that was part of his motives?


	5. We Cannot Lose Each Other.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Othello wakes up to find Cassio nervously pacing the room. He's worried about what the verdict may be about Othello staying or going, and he's set up a meeting with Lodovico and Gratiano so that he can endeavour to convince them to allow Othello to stay on Cyprus.

Othello sleeps in a little late the next morning, and Cassio doesn’t attempt to wake him up early. He himself rose at 07:00, a surprisingly early time considering the time that they both went to bed last night. It had been close to 01:00 in the morning by the time they had finished talking things out.

Othello stifles a yawn, but the action immediately brings back unpleasant reminders of how he suffocated Desdemona. He quickly removes his hands from his face.  
He blinks blearily and rubs his eyes as he props himself up on his elbows, vaguely wondering what the time was and how late to get up he was.

‘Cassio, what is the time?’ He asks in a groggy, “just-woken-up” type of voice.

‘’Tis 10:00am, sir,’ Cassio responds, before backtracking. Clearly the “sir” slipped out from force of habit. ‘I mean, general. I mean-- sorry.’

Othello smiles sympathetically. He doesn’t mind Cassio getting his title wrong - after all, Othello’s fall from grace and his own ascent to power was probably a lot for him to handle right now.

As he rubs the sleep out of his eyes and fully focuses, Othello realises that Cassio is pacing [well, to be more accurate, hobbling] around the room nervously, his hands behind his back. His normally neat black hair looks uncharacteristically wild, as if he had been running his hands through it numerous times. Considering that the former lieutenant cared a lot about status and appearance, Othello wonders if Cassio even has even realised the state of his hair, or if he’s just too wired up to notice.

‘Um. Cassio, have you seen your hair?’ Othello asks tentatively, gesturing to his head.

‘What?’

Cassio glances in the mirror and sighs deeply before he takes a comb and tries to sort it out, though Othello can tell that the attempt is rather half-hearted. Cassio’s mind is clearly somewhere else at present, for he doesn’t look fully focused at all. After less than ten seconds, he’s given up the attempt of neatening up his hair, and goes back to his pacing/hobbling again. He continues this for another minute whilst Othello watches him worriedly.

When Cassio inadvertently bumps into his washstand [sending the bowl of water perched on top of it flying] yet still isn’t broken out of whatever trance he is in, Othello decides to intervene.

‘Cassio? I mean, governor?’ Othello asks cautiously. Evidently, he’s not used to the new titles either. ‘Snap out of it…you just knocked your bowl on the washstand flying without realising...’

‘What?’

Cassio echoes his short question from last time, seemingly incapable of expressing any other words. He glances down at the floor and sighs, also a repeat from earlier.

‘Oh.’ He shakes his head. ‘You are right, I did not realise. Thanks for telling me,’ He says. Then he goes and gets a towel and then goes around cleaning the water up off the floor.   
He remains oddly silent throughout the whole procedure, and Othello cannot help prevent himself from feeling concern. There was a reason for his sudden strange quietness.

‘Cassio, what is the matter?’ Othello asks his former lieutenant. ‘What calls for this pacing and uncomfortable silence? What is the matter?’

Cassio slides down to sit in a chair near the window, resting his head on the cool window pane.

‘It is just…’ He starts with an air of reluctance, as if he doesn’t know how to put his thoughts into words. ‘You are only in Cyprus for a short amount of time. As soon as that storm clears, I have no doubts that Lodovico and Gratiano would be taking you back to Venice-- I do not want that.’

Othello echoes Cassio’s sighs, suddenly gloomy upon being reminded of the trip and the fact that he would have to leave Cassio’s company, despite not wanting to for all the world right now.

Cassio is still the only person Othello had left. _He did not want to lose him._

‘I have arranged a brief meeting with Lodovico and Gratiano today at noon,’ Cassio continues. ‘I am going to try and convince them to let you stay here with us. “Us” meaning me and-- and Iago.’

Othello nods, clenching his fists at the mention of that treacherous villain’s name. Although he’s still furious with Iago, he is also a small part of the reason why Othello wants to remain in Cyprus - so that he can have a talk with him and try to make sense of whatever his motives may have been.

‘Can I come with you?’ Othello requests, giving Cassio a hopeful look.

The latter shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. ‘I am not so sure that is a good idea…’

Othello slightly tilts his head to the side, trying to look beseeching. After all, he seems good at that.  
Cassio continues to fidget uneasily under Othello’s gaze. He’s so imploring that it’s difficult for him to say ‘no’ despite the fact that he’s in a higher position. Othello may not have been the general anymore, but as far as Cassio is concerned, he still is of a higher status and authority, just like he used to be. At least, that is what it feels like, which is why he ends up eventually agreeing.

Cassio shakes his head, resigned. ‘Okay, okay…you can come along, though I cannot say Lodovico or Gratiano will be expecting you,’ He warns faintly.

Othello smiles despite the vague warning. ‘I am fine with that,’ He declares. ‘After all, if you are going to try and convince them to let me stay - well, would it not be handy to have me there with you? Besides, are you planning on walking there? You might need some assistance.’

Cassio admits that it the former point probably would be handy. ‘Though you might want to be careful - presenting the right image to Gratiano and Lodovico might help your case and convince them to let you stay. As for my leg…thank you for your offer, but I should be fine. I have a crutch if need be.’

Othello nods seriously. ‘Alright. And I will, but 'tis ultimately up to the Duke, is it not? He is the one who requested that I go back to Venice in the first place, and it is the Venetian government who seem to have the final say in what happens to me,’ He points out.

Cassio massages his forehead, feeling a slight headache coming on. ‘Yes, but Lodovico and Gratiano are probably the ones who will be reporting about you to the Duke.’

Othello thinks about it. To be fair, he hasn’t really thought of that, but then again he isn’t thinking completely straight yet - he has only just woken up, after all.

‘Good point,’ He agrees. ‘Well, I shall do my best.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Othello will always be mesmerising to Cassio no matter what position he's in.


	6. Proving Oneself.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an awkward journey towards their destination, Cassio and Othello arrive for the meeting with Gratiano and Lodovico.
> 
> Once the meeting has begun, the prospect of Othello remaining in Cyprus is discussed, along with what he's been instructed to do to 'prove' himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've used the following archaic words / contractions in the right context, but I'm not 100% sure - excuse me if there are any inaccuracies. I've included the words below just in case anyone gets confused.
> 
> *Thus = Used in the context 'Did I look like that?'  
> *Peradventure = Perhaps  
> *'Twas = Contraction of 'it was'  
> *'Twill = Contraction of 'it will'  
> *'Tis = Contraction of 'it is'
> 
> *Hath = Has  
> *'t' contractions = 'it', e.g. 'will't' and 'for't' are 'will it' and 'for it' [I'm pretty sure the contraction of 'it' to a 't' was a thing back in the day, but I may be wrong on that one.]
> 
> Some of the words are slightly rearranged, such as 'should not he be' - from Shakespeare plays that I've read [along with a few other things from the era] this rearrangement of words seems quite common, particularly when someone says that they don't know something ['I know not'] - again, I might be wrong on this one, but hopefully there's at least a bit of accuracy in there! Hope you enjoy this chapter. (:  
> 

Just under two hours later, Cassio and Othello are walking through the streets of Cyprus towards the Grand Hall, where Lodovico and Gratiano are due to meet with them.   
The streets are bustling with people going to and from work, attending market stalls, and just having a generally pleasant stroll along, looking as if they are enjoying the weather - not that there’s much weather to particularly enjoy, though. [Funnily enough, the weather had been better yesterday, all sunshine and blue skies - and yet today it’s looking far more gloomy.]

Although everyone looks preoccupied with their own business, several people do take notice of them. It’s been less than a day since his appointment, but most of the Cypriots seem to recognise Cassio on sight; many of them offer sympathetic smiles and some of them even approach him to extend their verbal condolences, though this number is very few.  
Cassio wonders whether people are keeping their distance because he’s got Othello with him. Judging by the wary expressions that almost everyone is aiming at the latter, they have all heard of the tragedy that had unfolded yesterday evening - and Othello’s ill-advised part in it.

Othello himself isn’t too fond of the guarded stares that he’s attracting from practically everyone that they pass. He walks with his head bent, eyes focused firmly on the path with an expression on his face that he hopes looks dejected [which wouldn’t technically be a lie - he still feels almost insensible with grief whenever he thinks of Desdemona.]

Meanwhile, Cassio does his best to shield Othello from the stares of the citizens. Of course they don’t intend to be of any harm [probably] but he is getting the sense that Othello is becoming slowly agitated by the constant staring - not a good idea, considering that he’s got to make a reasonably calm and composed appearance for Lodovico and Gratiano in less than five minutes.

The situation becomes increasingly awkward as various people in the crowds start whispering.

_‘Isn’t this our former general, the one who was in power for only a couple of days?’_

_‘Yeah - he’s the one that went insane with jealousy and killed his wife.’_

_‘Should not he be in prison with that other guy? Iago, is it?’_

_‘Where’s the governor taking him? Somewhere tightly restricted, I hope…’_

The voices of the people are low in their attempts to be discreet, but Cassio catches every word that’s exchanged between their whispers. He glances anxiously at Othello, unsure if he’s heard them or not. If he has, he’s doing a very good job of hiding his reaction.

‘I like this not. What do they think I am going to do, assault them? I am not Iago, for pity’s sake.’

Ah. So obviously, he _has_ heard.

‘They are just worried. They are not trying to offend you, I am sure.’ Cassio mutters to Othello.  
He flashes his best 'reassuring' look at the crowd whilst he continues to try and shield Othello. 'Tis by no means an easy task, and doing two things simultaneously whilst walking makes it difficult - but mercifully, the two of them manage to get through the majority of the crowd. When there’s a more sparse arrangement of people around them, Cassio finally lets his guard drop.

‘Whew - we made it through the majority of people, thank goodness,’ He says, breathing out in relief. He spots Othello still looking mildly vexed, glancing around as if he’s daring anyone else to shoot him any kind of wary look. ‘Look, I know it must be annoying, but hopefully they will warm up to you soon. If you are able to stay on the island, that is…’

Othello drops the look and immediately puts an arm around Cassio, whom is beginning to look nervous. ‘We will find a way to convince them, you shall see.’ He pauses. ‘After all, a lot of times before this, it only took my rather refined speech to get at least half of the Venetians viewing me as noble. I am sure I could manage to use my speech again if necessary.’

Cassio nods determinedly. ‘You are right,’ He agrees. ‘We have just got to think positively.’

Their sudden burst of optimism prompts them to start walking that little bit faster towards the Great Hall, lest they were late for the meeting with Gratiano and Lodovico. Since they are walking with exceptionally more speed, fewer citizens that have the chance to stop, stare or even contemplate where Cassio and Othello are going or what they might be doing, which makes the rest of the journey a lot easier - Othello doesn’t feel as irritated and Cassio not as awkward.

However, as soon as the Hall was in their line of sight, Cassio spots Lodovico and Gratiano waiting for him outside. Although he cannot hear what they are saying [if they’re saying anything at all] he’s close enough to see their facial expressions…and whilst they only look bemused instead of annoyed in regards to the fact that he’d brought Othello with him, there’s a slight air of tension around them. It threatens to grow tenfold as he and the former general get closer and closer, and Cassio feels his newfound optimism drain away almost instantaneously.

‘Hello, governor. Hello, Othello.’ 

Lodovico greets them politely, though he’s evidently a little concerned by the fact that Othello has been brought along too. 

‘I thought it was just going to be between the three of us today?’

Cassio pauses elaborately, trying to think up a reasonable excuse. He could hardly say that he was too easily influenced by the former general - which he was, but they did not need to know that.  
Luckily, Othello comes to his rescue. 

‘We discussed me joining you early this morning, sir,’ He replies, his tone smooth and polite. He begins addressing both Lodovico and Gratiano together. ‘Since Cassio is now the governor, we did not think you would mind if he chose for me to come along. After all, I feel like there may be a need for me to prove myself to you, good gentlemen, and I am willing to do exactly that if necessary.’

His speech sounds so carefully crafted, a lot like it had done before the unfortunate manipulation business. Cassio finds that it’s hard to remember that Othello is technically no longer in power - his speech certainly doesn’t seem to reflect that at all. In fact, it gives off some of his former nobility.

Lodovico and Gratiano seem to be thinking along similar lines themselves.

‘Well…’ 

Lodovico casts a reluctant look at Gratiano, whom shrugs, looking conflicted. These expressions are only vague, though. They both look like they are close to accepting his presence.

‘So that is why you called for this meeting, governor?’ Gratiano asks. He grins slightly, and Cassio cannot find it in him to feel wary of him, despite the fact that he was a direct relation to the once grave and all-powerful Brabantio.

‘Yes. It is indeed,’ He confesses, shuffling his feet a little awkwardly.

Lodovico shakes his head, but he’s smiling a little too. ‘I suppose we should have known,’ He remarks. ‘Come, let us go inside so we can discuss this matter in private.’

Once they are inside the Hall and seated at the table within it, Lodovico clears his throat.

‘So, you want to discuss the prospect of Othello being allowed to stay behind in Cyprus?’

Cassio and Othello both nod together, silently and discreetly crossing their fingers.

Lodovico sighs softly. ‘I know how much it would mean to you both if you were able to stay in the company of each other,’ He says gently, giving them both a genuinely pitying look. It’s as if he completely understands their motives and feelings…but at the same time, he still has to drop the bombshell.

‘Gratiano and I did discuss this with the Duke before we came out here - before all of this even happened,’ He continued. ‘We knew at the time that you probably did not want to leave any members of your army behind, Othello, since you have grown close to them - especially now, but…’

‘…the Duke was adamant that he wanted you back in Venice,’ Gratiano finishes. He looks surprisingly condoling. ‘Admittedly he knew not _everything_ that had happened at the time - but even if he did, I doubt he would be willing to allow you to remain in Cyprus even then,’ He admits.

Cassio and Othello send each other deflated expressions. It’s painfully obvious, even to them, that the Duke or the government of Venice are not going to relent on their decisions, no matter what the situation was. They feel the situation is futile…in the sense that they cannot put up a fight even if they wanted to; even if they had the courage, because the Duke - and the Venetian Senators - are all in a higher position of power than the two of them, even with Cassio being the governor of Cyprus and all. Otherwise, advocating to have Othello remain behind would have been far easier.

Just then, Montano enters the Hall, slightly out of breath and with a letter in his hand. It looks rather fancy and intricate, not at all like the average parchment. He nods a brief hello to Cassio and Othello [whom are looking on in faint curiosity] before he hands the envelope over to Lodovico and Gratiano, both of which are looking surprised.

‘I do believe this is a letter from the Duke,’ Montano tells them, gesturing to the parchment paper. ‘I have not read it myself. A messenger arrived on the shores and bid me give it to you.’

Lodovico purses his lips. ‘I can only assume that this is a response to our letter we sent out.’

Gratiano nods, frowning. ‘It must be. We have not written any other time,’ He points out.

‘Um…’ Cassio raises his hand meekly. ‘What letters do you speak of?’

Whilst Lodovico reads through the Duke’s letter first, Gratiano turns to Cassio and Othello.

‘Lodovico and I sent a letter to the Duke yesterday, in response to his one about the storm. It included all of the…’ He pauses elaborately when it comes to mentioning the events last night, but takes a deep breath and continues. ‘…recent events. We stated how you were obviously of no danger to us, for you had been completely influenced by that slave and it was not out of your own free will. We also mentioned that you wanted to remain in Cyprus so that you did not have to leave your former lieutenant behind - to give you a sense of comfort,’ Gratiano explains. ‘We did suggest that the Duke allow you to stay here; we included our reasoning too, but I know not what he has to say in response to that.’ He glances over at Lodovico and the letter doubtfully.

Othello looks from Gratiano to Lodovico [the latter still intently reading the letter] and back again, his expression softening considerably into one of admiration and total gratitude.

‘I thank you very much for the attempt to support my case nevertheless,’ He whispers.

Meanwhile, Lodovico continues to read through the letter, his eyes completely focused and his brow furrowed in concentration, as if it is written in some kind of code that he has to decipher. After another minute, he looks up, passes the letter towards Gratiano so he could also read it, and regards both Othello and Cassio with a face devoid of expression, giving away no traces of whether the Duke’s letter had possibly brought good news or bad news for them.

Cassio and Othello exchange a wary glance. Whatever did the letter say? Would it be potentially worse news than before, or would it be news that would swing the situation in their favour? 

The Hall remains silent [in an almost deadly way] for a minute or two whilst Gratiano reads over the letter. No words are exchanged; the only eye contact that is made is between Cassio and Othello, both of them unable to stop glancing at each other out of increasing nervousness.  
Othello feels the almost uncontrollable desire to grab Cassio in a tight embrace just as a form of comfort - obviously, it would be seen as a little odd to the others, but he doesn’t care - he just wants some form of extra comfort before he has to face the very real possibility that the Duke has refused his request in his letter, for whatever reason.

Cassio himself doesn’t look much better. Whilst he’s been feeling anxious pretty much the entire time, the feeling is heightening as he watches Gratiano finish off the letter. The blank expression on his and Lodovico’s faces are clearly not helping with his nerves at all, causing him to jiggle his right leg in order to channel some of his nerves - it’s the only thing to stop him from blurting out the million-dollar question: _Has the Duke accepted Othello’s request to remain in Cyprus?_  
Finally, _finally_ , Gratiano draws his attention away from the letter, clearly having read through it. His expression is no longer blank - he now looks conflicted, as if he’s not quite sure what to say.

Although Montano isn’t exactly part of the meeting [he’s simply standing at the side in case any other letters are going to be sent in response] he seems to be curious about the contents of the letter - curious, but also rather tentative. 

_Perhaps he really wants Othello to stay too._ Cassio thinks, just as Gratiano clears his throat for the second time since the meeting had begun. Instantly, he disregards his thoughts and snaps to attention, with Othello following suit less than a second later.

‘As you most probably already know,’ Gratiano begins. ‘The Duke hath responded to our letter from yesterday, written partly on your behalf.’

Othello resists the urge to tell the diplomat to just get straight to the point, and from the way Cassio fidgets with his hands, he knows that the latter is similarly having to resist temptation - they are both all too aware that they would come across as rude, but did Gratiano really have to state the unnecessary? Maybe he was trying to set the scene, though it’s not particularly appreciated.

‘What hath he said?’ Othello hardly dares to ask.

‘You must prove yourself,’ Lodovico responds simply.

Othello blinks, unsure of what’s exactly meant by that. What did he need to prove and how?

‘What does he need to prove, though?’ Cassio asks one of the questions for him.

Lodovico turns the letter round and indicates a chunk of the handwritten text. ‘The Duke hath said that he understands your desire, but that he needs you to prove that you are no longer a threat to the citizens of Cyprus.’

Othello opens his mouth to protest - when has he _ever_ been a threat to the Cypriots? - but a discreet [though distinct] nudge from Cassio stops him from saying anything.

‘Of course, we know that this sounds a little ludicrous considering you were quite literally the governor of this place for a short period of time - but ’tis really just down to obeying the rules and the laws that have been set out for citizen protection, both here and in Venice,’ Lodovico adds.

Othello sighs deeply, wishing that the government in Venice had been at least a little lenient with him. Surely he has more than learnt his lesson by now, what with losing his wife and all? 

‘So what do I need to do to prove myself?’ Othello asks, sighing deeply and praying that it’s something reasonable and not too intense. He just doesn’t have the energy to manage it.

Lodovico shoots a worried look at Gratiano, whom glances back at him with an air of disinclination. Both of them look unwilling to explain to Othello exactly what the Duke wants him to do, which only serves to make Othello suspicious. However, after several seconds go by, Gratiano finally speaks.

‘The Duke wants you to, somehow, get the truth out of Iago,’ He speaks with a doubtful tone, as if he’s not entirely convinced that what he’s been informed of is accurate. ‘If you can get the truth out of Iago in the next three days, then the Duke says they may not consider torturing him after all.’

Cassio cannot hide the madly hopeful look that colours his features when he hears that, which earns him a puzzled look from everyone else in the room [Othello and Montano included.]

‘Governor? Why do you look so hopeful?’ Montano asks quizzically.

‘Um…’ 

Cassio feels himself go hot as everyone’s focus directly shifts to him and his unjustified, hopeful expression in response to the fact that there was a chance of Iago not being subjected to torture - something that he’s genuinely hoping would happen, for he really did not want to have to torture Iago, or even watch him be tortured, despite all that the villain had done. Certain…past experiences have made him completely ill at ease with any form of torture, regardless of whether he was on the beginning or the receiving end of it.

However, Cassio does not feel inclined to go into this, so he simply shrugs it off.

‘Did I look thus? 'Twas probably out of surprise. I, uh, did not think they would be prepared to let Iago off that easily,’ He fibs.

Lodovico nods in understanding. ‘I completely agree. I would not have thought that they’d be willing to let him off so lightly, especially after what he did.’

‘Agreed. I personally think they should be giving him the rack at the very least,’ Gratiano added.

Cassio coughs lightly, trying to gently steer the conversation back to the main subject, if only to avoid talking about torture any more than what they already had.  
Othello notices Cassio‘s discomfort towards the subject of torture [although he‘s not sure why] and does his best to steer the conversation back to the issue at hand.

‘What exactly does this have to do with me proving that I'm no longer a threat?’ Othello wants to know, sounding baffled.

Lodovico shrugs uncertainly. ‘I know not, Othello. We are just the messengers here. Peradventure there is some specific reason for't.’

‘So, will't be safe for me to do this?’

‘Oh yes,’ Lodovico responds, nodding. ‘Iago is currently in a jailhouse, shackled to a pole. He would not be able to get at you even if he wanted to.’

Othello sighs in relief, grateful that Iago was being kept under control. Theoretically, he should not be too fussed about it - he’s a soldier and he used to be the general for goodness sake - but just recently, he’s been having trouble remembering the status and authority that he once held in Cyprus, and Venice too. It’s as if he’s back to being a young boy again, before he began learning how to become a soldier. Obviously, Othello knows full well that he’s not a young boy again; it’s probably just the shock to his system that has caused his comprehension of reality to become somewhat distorted.

‘So when do I start?’ He asks eagerly. The sooner he can fully establish his stay in Cyprus, the better.

Gratiano shrugs. ‘The Duke has not mentioned a specific day or time, but we would assume that it is today - after all, 'tis only giving you three days, which is the amount of time 'twill apparently take for the storm overseas to clear up,’ He explains. He produces a small bunch of keys from his inner pocket and hands them to Cassio. ‘These are the keys to the jailhouse and Iago’s cell within it. As thou art the governor, you are now responsible for what happens to him,’ He adds.

Cassio nods mutely, though he’s tempted to hand the keys straight back to Gratiano, because he does not want to be put in charge of Iago, not if torture was going to be involved. He doesn’t want to be pressured into giving Iago the torture that he probably deserves and he doesn’t want to be made responsible for that same villain’s actions either - what if he couldn’t control him?

However, Cassio remains silent and doesn’t mention any of this. Instead, he simply nods in reluctant acceptance and goes along with it, knowing that there is no way for him to get out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I don't know what getting the truth out of Iago has to do with Othello proving that he's not a threat to Cyprus, either, and I'm the one who wrote it...  
> It was mostly just an excuse for Othello to communicate with Iago at some stage.


	7. Preparing for the Plan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Othello and Cassio walk home from the meeting, gaining a few questionable looks from citizens and one direct question on the way.
> 
> Othello thinks that Cassio is acting a little strange, so he tries to find out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the titles of my chapters are rubbish. I'm terribly sorry.

After another few minutes spent discussing what Othello could do to try and convince Iago to open up, along with some brief and repeated warnings about the time limit, Othello and Cassio leave the Hall, and whilst both of them don’t look totally happy, they are both noticeably more optimistic than they were upon entering just half an hour ago.

‘When dost thou reckon I should start?’ Othello asks Cassio as they walk back along the same route.

Cassio gently bites his lip thoughtfully. ‘Well, whenever you want to I suppose,’ He responds.

_Is it just me, or does Cassio look a little…anxious?_ Othello wonders to himself as they gradually begin walking through crowds once more. _Perhaps he’s just surprised by the responsibility._

The two of them passed by almost the exact same crowds of people that they had passed on their way up to the Hall; these same people all turn to look at the two of them as they make their way back to Cassio’s lodgings, practically everyone occupying some form of wariness on their face, especially when they spot Othello walking along beside Cassio with a slight spring in his step.

As they get further and further into the crowds, more people spot them and recognise them [so they must have been there earlier]. Those people automatically start up yet another series of whispers, although they’re not very good because he can still hear every word.  
Most people are wondering why on earth Othello’s walking along with a slight spring in his step [completely inappropriate, given the situation] and why his attitude appears more optimistic.  
Perhaps they think that Othello has another act of violence planned. After the fateful events from yesterday night, all of the citizens seem rather suspecting and in awe of Othello, despite the fact that he was recently in charge of them all, effectively.

Some of the citizens are glancing at Cassio questioningly. After all, he’s their new governor - he must have some idea of what was going on, must he not?

Cassio doesn’t really respond to these glances, though. He’s too…preoccupied with his own thoughts to really acknowledge them, and whilst that probably doesn’t give a good impression of him, he just cannot deal with the questions right now. He needs time to get himself together.  
However, one of the Cypriots goes right up to him [ignoring the fact that Othello is nearby - evidently they are not as dubious as the everyone else in the crowd] to ask a question.

‘Excuse me, governor…but what’s happening with Iago and…?’ He nods towards Othello.

Cassio involuntarily twitches at the question. How awkward the situation has just become: being asked about Iago’s punishment with the knowledge that he might be let off, and also being asked about what was due to happen with Othello as if the latter _isn't_ standing right next to him.

‘Well, the details have not been precisely worked out just yet…’ Cassio fibs uneasily. ‘But we are working towards getting the finer details placed so that we can, um, move the process forward.’

The citizen nods, seemingly satisfied by the response, and walks back into the throng. Nobody else even attempts to approach Cassio to ask him a question, and he cannot help the sigh of relief that escapes his mouth. He’s not up for anymore interrogations. It feels as if an entire day has already been and gone despite the fact that it’s still early afternoon.

Cassio and Othello eventually make it back to the former’s lodgings. They both retreat to the living room so that they can discuss what’s going to happen in regards to Othello’s ‘task’ of sorts.  
Now that they are in the privacy of Cassio’s lodgings, Othello wants to ask him a question himself.  
He takes in the weary expression on the other’s face and feels kind of guilty that he’s going to be throwing another question at him, when it is almost obvious that Cassio’s already had enough just from being asked one question by that citizen - but it’s a serious question that Othello wants to ask.

‘Hey Cassio - what was with the sudden discontent?’ Othello inquires.

Cassio looks nervous for a second upon the interrogation - but swiftly replaces his expression with one of vague shock. 

‘I am just a bit overwhelmed by the sudden responsibility,’ He says, muttering slightly, as if he’s not entirely sure of himself.

  
Othello doesn’t feel entirely convinced by that, but Cassio instantly changes the subject, and so he has to let it go…for the moment.

‘So, when do you want to do this?’ Cassio asks, juggling the keys in his hand.

‘Well…as soon as possible, really. I need as much time to do this as I can get. Perhaps…well, now if you are not busy? The sooner the better, right?’ Othello points out.

Cassio sighs softly, but doesn’t complain. He knows how important this ‘task’ is, despite the fact that he does not particularly want to trek all the way to and from the jailhouse. He doesn’t really want to see Iago either, because seeing the villain will just give him reminders of his possible torture, a subject that Cassio was trying his best to avoid [difficult as it is, being the governor who hath been put _in charge_ of the potential torture.]

Othello watches him, frowning slightly. ‘I mean, that is _if you are not busy_ …?’ He adds hesitantly.

Cassio briefly flashes Othello a small smile. ‘Not at all, not at all.’ He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. ‘If you want to start now…then I am ready when you are.’


	8. Passing by the Alehouse.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassio and Othello start heading over to the jailhouse - but on the way, they get stopped by a couple of intoxicated people who seem intent on asking questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapter titles still need some work, I know.

Several minutes later, Cassio and Othello are walking the opposite way to where they had gone the last time - heading for the jailhouse, where Iago was being kept.  
Neither of them say much on the way there, both of them evidently preoccupied with their own musings. It isn’t until Othello nearly trips over an uneven slab of pavement that the silence drops.

‘Careful!’ Cassio exclaims, reflexively holding his arms out to steady the former general.

Othello gives him a grateful look. ‘I humbly thank you for that,’ He answers, steadying himself before rolling his eyes at himself. ‘Look at me. You would not think that I was the general of this place just yesterday.’ He shakes his head. Then he smiles at Cassio. ‘But you are doing a grand job.’

Cassio aims a doubtful look at Othello. ‘I only stopped you from tripping,’ He says sceptically.

Othello represses the laughter that’s bubbling up inside of him - the first bout of laughter that he’d felt in what seemed to be days. He’s almost laughing because of how unaware Cassio appears.

‘I meant in broader terms than that,’ Othello tells him, chuckling softly. ‘You know, how respectful you try to be to the citizens, how you are handling your new responsibilities - responsibility of Iago being one of the main ones, and--’ He abruptly stops himself when he notices Cassio isn’t really listening to what he’s saying. He’s staring off into space, his mind obviously a great distance away from present time.  
Then he seems to notice Othello giving him an odd look, and immediately snaps to attention.

‘Oh. Right, that is what you meant. Thank you - though I am sure you could do’t better.’

Othello’s chuckles fade away as he regards Cassio with a suspicious gaze.

‘There is something that you are not telling me,’ He prompts.  
Cassio’s eyes meet his, looking almost agonised. But he doesn’t object to Othello’s statement. The latter delicately raises his eyebrows, waiting patiently for Cassio to speak up.  
After a slow-going minute or two, he sighs deeply.

‘Look…’tis nothing. I just need time to get used to these new responsibilities and all,’ Cassio explains, rubbing his temples as he feels the onset of a headache coming on. ‘Surely thou know’st that it takes a lot of getting used to? There is so much that will need to be done.’

Othello smiles sympathetically. ‘Ay, I know the feeling,’ He admits. ‘And look…if, and I like to think that ’tis a big “if” - _if_ I get to remain on this island, I can try and advise you and help you out when you need it. After all, I have had experience, have I not?’ He finishes dryly.

Cassio nods, smiling back thankfully. ‘I suppose you have,’ He agrees. ‘Thank you…‘twould be a massive help, let me tell you.’

Even after the brief conversation dwindles into silence, the two of them carry on with an air of significantly less tension than there was a moment ago. Cassio walks along, looking a little more content than he did before [though still slightly uneasy] and Othello seems much more optimistic.

Another few minutes pass in relative silence - and then that silence is immediately broken as soon as the two of them walk past an alehouse on their way to the jailhouse. From the sounds of it, there’s a full house in there [the first indication they get is the loud, completely off-key singing voices that can be heard from inside.] Before they completely pass it by, the doors to the alehouse come swinging open, and a horde of about 200 people spill out into the open. All of them are holding some form of alcohol, and most of them seem completely blitzed out of their brains already despite the fact that it’s not even the evening yet.

Cassio uneasily watches the majority of them down the contents of their cups in a few seconds flat. Just the view of people drinking with such gusto reminds him of the fight he got engaged in less than a week ago, because Iago had managed to pressure him into getting drunk.  
It was the event that caused him to lose his position in the first place. And he doesn’t like to remember it if he can help it, but it’s difficult to stop the unpleasant memories from flooding back as the bar-goers party and drink not too far away.

In an attempt to leave the area without any recognition, Cassio slightly lowers his head and fixes his gaze on the pavement beneath his feet, dramatically increasing his pace whilst he’s at it. Othello looks bemused at his antics, but mercifully, he too boosts his pace so that he’s walking quickly in-step with Cassio. It stops the latter from having to see everyone else drinking too, which serves to make things even easier, and things seem to go quite well for all of ten seconds.

Then two of the bar-goers [a man and woman, assumingly a couple from the way they’re acting] spot them and start walking over. By the way they’re walking [or to be more accurate, staggering] over to them, it’s clear as anything that they’re intoxicated. Cassio’s tension once again heightens as he and Othello awkwardly wait for the couple to approach.  
Once they finally do, Cassio silently notes that they are sweaty, the man smells of ale, the woman is jittery [making the glass of wine in her hand practically a hazard] and their eyes are bloodshot. Very bloodshot. Obviously they’ve been drinking the afternoon away.   
Cassio just wants to get away from the area, lest his unpleasant memories become overwhelming - but because he’s not an arrogant person, and because he’s the governor now, he waits patiently.

It certainly takes a short while for them to approach, and since Cassio cannot well walk away, he takes the opportunity to wonder whether the man and woman are aware of their state. Did they not know that drunkenness was considered a sin by many?

‘Hey governor!’ The man slurs, shaking hands with Cassio enthusiastically. ‘What’re you doing out here? Rumour has it that you’re a lightweight, so I didn’t think we’d ever spot you around here!’

Cassio’s left eye involuntarily twitches at the mention of his infirmity, but he manages to stay polite.  
‘Ah, yes, well…’ Cassio does his best to smile even though he wants to scream. 

‘I am not here to go into the alehouse…I am actually just passing by this place to get to another destination.’

The drunkard nods knowingly. ‘I thought that might’ve been it,’ They He unnecessarily. ‘I s’pose it wouldn’t make any sense for you to be hanging out ‘round here. Haven’t you got all them governor duties you’ve gotta do?’ He halts his paused speech, looking curious. ‘Anyway, weren’t you that guy who got involved in a fight a few days back? The one who got totally smashed after having like half a glass of wine or somethin’?’

Cassio continues to smile rigidly, fists clenched. He can see Othello glancing at him sympathetically out of the corner of his eye, but the former doesn’t want to risk speaking in case the drunk notices his presence and starts badgering Cassio with yet more awkward questions.

‘Yes. That was me,’ Cassio responds stiffly.

The woman starts giggling. ‘What d’you think would happen if you were to have two whole glasses, eh? Would you hallucinate? Would you become totally incapable of thought? Or maybe you’d start spouting profane gibberish? Ooh no, maybe you’d totally strip--’

Cassio coughs, keeping his face pleasant enough, but also whilst looking at his watch pointedly.  
However, neither of them seem to take the hint, and instead continue to fire possibilities at Cassio, becoming more and more crude as they go. Cassio himself is becoming increasingly uncomfortable, so much so that he is not even able to find his voice to tell the pair of them to, for want of a better phrase, shut the hell up [not that he would ever _use_ such a profane phrase, but he cannot deny that it is rather tempting.]

Othello notes that Cassio’s getting increasingly uncomfortable under the continuous suggestions for what he would do when he was intoxicated, being thrown at him.  
Despite initially deciding to remain quiet in an attempt to be inconspicuous [which had worked so far, for the person was so drunk that they didn’t even notice his presence] Othello decides to speak up so that he could help Cassio get rid of the drunkards that are holding them up and making him feel awkward. Of course, being the governor, Cassio should really be able to handle it, but since he’s relatively new to the position, Othello knows he needs to give him the benefit of the doubt. Plus, he himself has had experience in such a position, so he knows roughly how to handle it.

‘Prithee, good lady and gentleman - we are embarking on a rather important quest; ’tis important that we get there betimes, for it is indeed one of absolute urgency.’

They both glance over at Othello, taking in his presence for the first time in several minutes. Neither of them respond to his statement, and instead look the former general up and down as if they are quietly evaluating him, judging whether or not they should believe him.

‘Isn’t he that guy who went mad? What’s he doing here?’ The woman asks Cassio bluntly, pointing towards Othello with a shaky finger and a frown of disapproval.  
Cassio sighs deeply and shifts uncomfortably. Why did they have to ask such a direct question?

‘That is…what our business is about,’ Cassio responds, pretending to cast an awkward look over at Othello. He deliberately lowers his voice to a whisper. _‘'Tis about his recent…mishaps.’_

‘Oh. Right, I see. Well, I s’pose we’d better let you go then,’ The man says, mercifully, and holds up a wavering hand in regards to Cassio before giving Othello a pointed look. The woman follows suit.

‘Make sure you condemn him well,’ She says to Cassio in a quiet voice - but not quite quietly enough, since Othello can still hear her, loud and clearly. However, he’s careful not to react.

Meanwhile, Cassio gives both the woman and the man a stiff smile of acknowledgement. 

‘I shall.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how historically accurate it is to say that a woman also got drunk in the 16th century [for context - I'm basing the date from the century that the war with the Turks happened.] But to be honest, there are probably a few historical inaccuracies in here anyway, though I'll try to make it as accurate as possible.


	9. How Has Iago Managed to Survive Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a brief mood-boost from Cassio to Othello, the two of them finally arrive at the Jailhouse...and it does not look pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case people get confused [sorry if these are inaccurate.]
> 
> *Hast = Have  
> *Hath = Has  
> *Belike = Probably  
> *'Twas = [Contraction] It was  
> *To't = [Contraction] To it  
> *If't = [Contraction] If it

Finally, _finally_ , the drunks amble back over to the crowd of other intoxicated citizens [did none of them realise the sin???] Almost as soon as they are out of earshot, Cassio springs into action, resuming his swift walking pace from a few minutes earlier, and Othello follows suit. Neither of them exchange another word until they’re a safe distance away from the alehouse, to which both of them allow themselves to emit huge sighs of relief.

‘Well, that was certainly interesting,’ Cassio remarks, shaking his head. ‘Though how people can get that drunk is beyond me, it really is. Still, thanks for jumping in there…’ He trails off as he notices that Othello is barely paying attention, scuffing a nearby wall with the tip of his boot. Ironically he does not succeed in scuffing the wall - in fact, it is his boot that’s beginning to take the impact.

Cassio quickly nudges Othello to break him out of whatever trance he’s in before he can do his boots any more damage than what has already been done to them.

‘What is the matter, gen-- Othello?’ Cassio wants to know, sheepishly correcting himself as he nearly refers to Othello under his old title once again. It’s still a mere habit that he hopes will clear up soon.

‘’Tis just…the circumstances and the swift changes. I mean, less than a week ago, I was seen as a strong and respected general of this warlike isle! And now…? My reputation hath been reduced to nothing: I am no longer seen as noble by any of my peers aside from yourself. Everyone else around here either sees me as a threat or a villain, just like Iago,’ He shrugs gloomily. ‘Maybe I am such.’

‘Hey now,’ Cassio says, nudging Othello again, but this time in a slightly more playful manner. ‘I thought _I_ was the one who is supposed to be obsessed with my reputation?’

Othello chuckles briefly in response, but almost instantaneously goes back to being dejected.  
Cassio puts a sympathetic hand upon his shoulder, acutely aware that he may need some confidence boosting, or maybe even some appreciation.

‘Not everyone thinks of you that way. Aside from myself, there is Lodovico, Gratiano, Montano…and the Duke. I mean, he hath given thee a second chance,’ Cassio points out.

‘Ay, but he is going to. He is belike only giving me a chance because he knows that you have also requested my presence on this island to remain. Thou art the governor; he is not likely to simply say “no” and dismiss it altogether. I doubt it hath anything to do with a personal like of me,’ Othello responds, despair and anger [aimed at himself] creeping into his voice.

‘No, no, come on. Before, you were a well-respected general - and even though you may not hold that title anymore, thou art still as well-respected as you were before. I still respect you; I am willing to bet that Iago still does. And the Duke is not likely to give people second chances so easily - he hath given you that chance because he still respects you. Thou hast done a fantastic job of regaining some of your previous nobility. How could he not still respect you? You are still noble and worthy as far as I am concerned - even if you do not hold any specific title anymore.’

Othello smiles one Cassio finishes, feeling just a little bit better. Once again, he feels hugely grateful for the presence of his former lieutenant. In just 24 hours, he hath saved his life twice, vouched for him in a meeting, and given him confidence-boosting talks when needed. Othello knows full well that Cassio’s going to make a perfect governor of Cyprus…he just hopes that he’s still going to be on the island to see the development.

The two of them continue the journey, once again in silence, for the next six minutes. Both of them are lost in their own individual thoughts, but neither one of them lets the other know what they are thinking precisely.

When Cassio halts abruptly, Othello almost crashes into him and almost knocks him flying [he may not be of a higher rank anymore, but he’s still over Cassio physically.] He blurts an apology as he glances at Cassio, puzzled, wondering why he stopped so suddenly.

‘Why hast thou stopped?’ He wants to know, glancing around and checking to make sure that he hasn’t missed something somehow. Just recently, he’d found out that he seemed to have developed a habit of missing out small details of things, though this was probably because he’d had a lot on his mind as of late; he still did, the thoughts being quite consuming.

Cassio points to a building in front of them. ‘We are here,’ He says simply.

The two of them stare up at the jailhouse that seems to loom in front of them. It’s not particularly big, maybe the size of one or two semi-detached modern houses put together, but without the intricate details: no windows, no paint. Just brickwork. It somehow manages to look quite…haunting, if nothing else.

The brickwork isn’t even of a common colour - instead, the bricks look practically grey, and none of them are even close to being in pristine condition. More than half of them are visibly crumbling away; the rest were almost completely decayed. The roofing looked worn out, like it was due to collapse any second. It would have come as no surprise if't had ended up collapsing after the smallest weight was put upon it, such as a feather. It was a wonder that the house was still standing.

The dilapidated stone path had several stones in it that were either wobbly or missing. It was surrounded by grass, which should have brightened its appearance a little bit - but it did not, on account of the fact that the grass itself looked badly unkempt, all withered and some of it even going off-colour. It looked as though many people had walked on the grass and along the path over many years, and nobody had bothered to make any replacements.

‘Twas not just the appearance of the house, either - the scent that seemed to linger around it smelt dusty and stale, even a little bit like sulphur. Evidently, the jailhouse had not seen any forms of soap or scented water for at least a year or more. When Cassio and Othello were first hit with the overall smell of the place, it felt horrendous. It was enough to make Cassio gag and Othello go into a coughing fit.

‘Are you alright?’ Cassio asks Othello, his tone full of revulsion as he attempts to stop gagging. He pats the former general on the back, trying to help him get under control.

Othello manages a nod as he tries, ineffectually, to compose himself. ‘Yes. ’Tis just the _smell_ \--’

‘I know. ‘Tis revolting, isn’t it?’ Cassio agrees, his voice slightly muffled because his hand is over his mouth. ‘It should be okay in a minute though…we just need time to adjust to’t.’

‘Ugh. This is torture of the nostrils,’ Othello mutters in between coughing.

Cassio can’t help smiling a little bit at the comment, even though the two of them are still reeling from the truly terrible smell coming from the jailhouse. He pats Othello sympathetically on the back, attempting to help him soothe his coughing fit. 

As Cassio does so, he fleetingly wonders how on earth Iago has managed to survive in there for 24 hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 chapters in, and Iago still hasn't made an appearance yet. Don't worry...just a one more chapter to go, and Iago will finally show up - and so will a few [perhaps subtle at first] references to the relationship tag.
> 
> Thank you to those who are still reading! (:


	10. There, Is Iago.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassio and Othello walk through the jailhouse with some difficulty, before arriving in the cell area. And who do they find? The exact same person that they have come here to talk to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for these completely un-inspiring chapter titles - if you hadn't already noticed, I suck at coming up with them.
> 
> [Once again, forgive me for any inaccuracies.]  
> *Didst = Did  
> *Thyself = Yourself  
> *Twould = [Contraction] It would

It takes a little while, and both of them have to back away several times to get some breaths of fresh air - but eventually, they have more or less managed to adjust to the smell, and are able to approach the jailhouse without reacting as intensely as they did before.

After Cassio unlocks it, he and Othello can both see for themselves that it is dark inside. A smallish stretch of a corridor can just about be made out from where they are standing, but there are no lights whatsoever - no candles, matches, lanterns, or anything. It may have been daylight, but the lack of windows in this particular area of the jailhouse serve to make it appear blacker than night.

‘So. Have we got anything we can use to light that corridor?’ Othello asks hopefully, peering warily into the rather daunting corridor before him.

Cassio shakes his head.

‘Unfortunately not,’ He sighs. ‘I did not think to bring one - I automatically assumed that this place would have at least a little bit of light.’

‘So what do we do? Go back and get a lantern?’

Cassio thinks about it. ‘Well, I know not about you, but I would rather not risk heading back just yet, lest we are apprehended by some of those intoxicated people again.’

Othello takes one look at the expression of discomfort on Cassio’s face upon remembering the last time - and nods, though he seems anxious and reluctant about something or other. But he doesn’t say anything in regards to those feelings.

‘I guess we will just have to adjust our eyes to the darkness. More waiting,’ He grumbles instead.

‘Yeah, sorry about that--’

‘Oh, I was not blaming you. ‘Tis just so inconvenient. I will finally get the chance to talk to Iago at about 1 o’clock tonight the way we are heading.’

Nevertheless, the two of them patiently stand and stare out at the jet black corridor, giving their eyes a chance to adjust to the lack of light - otherwise, they knew they would find some kind of trouble when attempting to navigate their way through it.

In a short span of time, their eyes are more or less adjusted, and Cassio begins to walk towards the doorway, under the illusion that Othello’s right behind him. However, the lack of footsteps tell him otherwise, and when Cassio turns round, he notices that Othello is indeed several paces away, not having moved from his initial position.

‘Uh, Othello?’

Othello shakes his head, looking doubtful. ‘I-- that corridor…it’s a bit…scary. I feel unnerved.’

Cassio stares at him, incredulous. ‘What? Is't even possible for you to feel scared or unnerved?’

Othello shrugs, focusing on the ground in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. ‘Well…it just is scary,’ He mumbles bluntly.

‘Othello, you have endured slavery and fought in battles against enemies that are ten times more terrifying than this entire jailhouse put together,’ Cassio says slowly. ‘How can this be any worse?’

Othello puts his arms around himself, attempting to provide his own self support. ‘It’s just the darkness…that is the bit that’s getting to me,’ He murmurs, sounding mortified at the confession.

‘You are scared of the dark? You never told anyone before. But ’tis nothing to be ashamed of--’

Othello sighs, a sigh that lasts a full five seconds in order to let everything out - mainly his shame.

‘There is more to’t than that,’ He admits. ‘See…I never used to be scared of the dark - I mean, I used to be a soldier; the governor, for pity’s sake. But now, ’tis just…’ He pauses, collecting his thoughts. ‘Ever since…the thing with Desdemona, I can’t stop thinking about what I did to her. I smothered her, right, and made her world go dark. That‘s- that’s why I’m ill at ease now. Because any form of darkness simply reminds me of what I did to Des…it makes me think of what she must be experiencing right now. ’Tis just blackness…because I extinguished the light of her life.’

Cassio listens to Othello as he practically pours out part of his soul. Now, Othello’s unease makes absolute sense - the darkness serves as a painful reminder, a continuous taunt that reminds Othello of his actions and what he put Desdemona through - actions that he evidently feels full remorse for now, which only makes him feel more and more guilt-ridden.

‘Tis like mental torture. So painful that it is almost beginning to hurt him physically.

‘Othello…’ Cassio starts gently, but the former cuts him off.

‘Don’t.’ He mutters. ‘You can’t rectify this situation, or provide justice for what I have done. Let’s face it - I’m going to be living with this…this torture for the rest of my life, and I suppose that’s no bad thing if you think about it, because ’tis what I deserve anyway, considering my crimes.’

He’s beginning to ramble a little bit, his voice and words seeming to slowly lose their grace and structure as he continues to berate himself for his actions. He deserves the pain, does he not?

At this point, Othello’s saying all of this to nobody in particular - he has gone off in a tangent, talking either to himself or thin air, his words and phrases becoming disjointed with the loss of control.

It’s at that point that Cassio places both hands firmly on Othello’s shoulders, forcing the latter to look him directly in the eyes. As those russet brown eyes meet his own similarly-coloured ones, Cassio begins to speak as solidly as he can manage, endeavouring to snap Othello out of it.

‘Othello. Relax, and listen to me.’

When Othello was in one of his guilt-ridden trances, it was often quite a difficult task to get him to calm down and pull himself together. However, there is something about Cassio’s tone of voice - almost like a commanding aura - that manages to distract him from his daze completely.

‘You believe in Heaven, do you not?’

Othello nods silently. He had always held a strong belief in Heaven, particularly after he met Desdemona. He’d firmly believed that she was an angel from that very place - and so she was.

‘In that case, look at it this way: Desdemona was innocent. She was treated…’ Cassio pauses briefly, unsure of how to word his explanation without upsetting Othello more. ‘…Iago manipulated her; manipulated you, and more or less had a significant hand in her death. However, you know now that Desdemona was not at fault - she was heavenly true. If such a thing as Heaven doth exist, then she would have ascended up there, and thou know’st how the beliefs go. Heaven is depicted as a supernatural place full of light and delight. Desdemona will not be in darkness. She is in a better and wonderful place now, and I do not doubt that she is looking down over you, even now - and would she want you to live the rest of your life in this way?’

Othello thinks about it for a moment before answering: ‘No. No…she would not.’ He thinks again for several more seconds before nodding. ‘She is in a better place now. A place full of divinity and virtue, just like her. She will be better there, I am sure of’t. I cannot and probably will not be able to stop the remorse or the rage that I feel towards myself for my actions…but all that you just said were very good points; they do certainly make the situation seem better,’ He admits, sighing softly before taking Cassio earnestly by the hand and shaking with vigour.

‘I humbly thank thee once again, for your help and your counsel. You have been extremely helpful to me over the last few days. Well, you were before - but recently it hath been even more so, despite- despite the fact that I plotted against you. I am so grateful that words cannot possibly describe it.’

Cassio smiles modestly and accepts the handshake [not that he has got much of a choice, for Othello was gripping his hand in earnest and utter gratitude - but he’s okay with that.]

‘So…are you ready to go inside now?’

‘More than ready, I should think.’

The two of them begin making cautiously making their way into the darkened corridor, being careful not to trip over or knock into anything. The corridor isn’t particularly big, about 12 metres or thereabouts, a journey that really shouldn’t take more than a minute at the most under normal circumstances - but of course, it is dark and although their eyes have adjusted somewhat, Cassio and Othello still find it difficult to walk the length of the corridor at a reasonable pace without sustaining any bruises or the like. At one point, Cassio ends up accidentally knocking against a random wooden crate that’s obviously been carelessly placed down there by someone at some point. He doesn’t fall over, but the impact is hard enough that he manages to practically bust his kneecap. [At least, that is how it feels.]

‘Ouch!’ Cassio exclaims, biting his lip to prevent himself from blurting out a profanity of any kind.

‘Art thou alright? What didst thou do?’ Othello asks from right behind him.

‘Yes, yes, I am fine, thank you - I just bruised my kneecap on a wooden crate.’

‘A wooden crate? Wherefore would a wooden crate be down here?’

‘Who knows? Personally, I think people place any old rubbish down here. ’Tis not like this place is used often,’ Cassio points out with a shudder as he leans down to rub his now throbbing knee.

‘That is true. The residents of Cyprus seem quite well-mannered,’ Othello agrees, holding his arms out blindly in an attempt to make sure that he doesn’t collide with the same wooden crate and end up suffering a bruise like Cassio did. ‘How much longer do you think this will be? I swear I will end up colliding with something or tripping over something before long--’

Othello cuts himself off with an exclamation of surprise. His foot catches on what looks like a pile of rubble, though it’s difficult to tell in the dim light. He stumbles and nearly trips, but an amused Cassio helps him to regain his balance before he can fall over.

‘Nice one. I think you nearly jinxed yourself there,’ He laughs softly. ‘Did thou hurt thyself?’

‘No, thankfully. Thank you for thy assistance - I swear I am tripping over everything today.’

‘Watch it - you do not want to go jinxing thyself again.’

Luckily, the two of them manage to get through the rest of the corridor without obtaining anymore bruises or injuries of any kind. It takes about six minutes for them to go just twelve metres, which is at least four minutes more than it should have been, but at least they were able to emerge alive.

‘Tis a relief when they eventually walk into quite a large, wide room at the end of the corridor, a room that is evidently more spacious, more tidy, and certainly...well, it looks a lot _cleaner_ too, for some bizarre reason.

The first thing that becomes clear is the fact that, thank God, the entire room is lit up by various lamps and torches that are dotted about the room, all combining to provide the room with a substantial amount of light. It is evidently easier to see the make-up of the room - it has a basic stone floor, much like the one outside, though this one looks surprisingly immaculate, almost as if someone had popped in and cleaned it only a couple of days ago. The walls are of a similar make, and are also oddly pristine. Cassio and Othello wonder if someone has recently renovated the place or re-built it, considering no service at all had been given to the corridor; ‘twould not make sense for one part of the jailhouse to be routinely cleaned whilst another was frequently overlooked.

There is even an astonishingly pleasant aroma penetrating the room, a scent not unlike the sweet-smelling rosemary that was commonly used in scented water nowadays. Of course, it beat the foul, dusty and dank smells that both Cassio and Othello assumed the place would have if the corridor was any indication - but it does not much sense to them. ’Tis a jailhouse after all.

The room is pretty spacious too, and at first neither of them can figure that out either - but then it dawns upon them that it’s because there are several individual cells lining the left wall, the right wall, and the wall on the far side of the room. In contrast to the broad room, each and every cell looks dingy and cramped, containing just enough room for one person, a bed, and a chair.

‘How many people are being kept prisoners in those cells?’ Othello asks Cassio, wrinkling his nose just at the mere sight of them.

‘Just Iago. Nobody else hath needed to be placed in jail recently, from what I have been told.’

‘Right…and Iago is in one of those cells…which one, precisely?’

As if on cue, a distinct cough sounds from one of the cells to the left, loud enough that it causes an echo of sound to bounce around the wide room before fading away several seconds later.  
In response, Cassio and Othello turn to the cell closest to their left - and upon doing so, Othello feels his heart actually skip a beat.

‘I rather think that just answered your question,’ Cassio murmurs to him.

There, inside the dank cell and grinning at them sardonically, is Iago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally seeing Iago, 10 chapters in!


	11. Will You Talk?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassio and Othello briefly talk to Iago about the cell and the conditions before switching over to the main reason that they came in the first place...to get Iago to confess the truth.
> 
> But will Iago confess anything at all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *'Twould = [Contraction] It would.  
> *Ay = Yes.
> 
> Apologies for any inaccuracies. My chapter titles still suck.

‘Well…he looks different,’ Othello mutters to Cassio.

Iago certainly seems to have changed since the last time Cassio and Othello saw him - which was actually only yesterday evening. However, he’s definitely undergone some changes…physically.

His hair is messier; his clothes slowly becoming ragged and dirty. He doesn’t look any thinner, because only a day has passed, but when Cassio takes a nearby torch and holds it towards the cell to better see Iago, it’s revealed that he has dark circles under his eyes, and he’s shivering a little too. Evidently, the conditions of the cell are already starting to have an affect on him.

All of the physical differences aside though, Iago’s presence is still as intimidating and looming as it had been yesterday, despite his physical drawbacks. In fact Othello even finds that he’s a little wary of Iago, though he is behind bars. Of course, he was previously a higher rank than Iago, so he was definitely over him in terms of social status - but although he would never admit it to anyone, Othello had always felt a little bit in awe of Iago. Initially, he had seen Iago’s intimidation as a positive, a good trait for a soldier to possess - but now? Not so much.

Yesterday, upon being interrogated, Iago had vowed to remain silent - and from the looks of things, he’s sticking to that vow. He has obviously spotted Cassio and Othello’s presence outside of his cell, but he does not acknowledge it with any words. All he does is grin at them in that unnerving way that only he seems capable of doing.

‘So…what do you think I should say?’ Othello whispers to Cassio, glancing awkwardly at Iago.

‘Well…whatever you think is best. Remember he pledged to remain silent. You have got to try and break that silence by encouraging him to open up somehow,’ Cassio whispers back.

‘Right,’ Othello sighs. ‘That is easier said than done.’

This is strictly true. Even before the incident, Iago had a bit of a reputation for being an inherently stubborn man. In fact, back in Venice not too long ago, there was a minor battle between the three of them and a few Turks that had somehow managed to sneak onto the island of Venice undercover. Othello and Cassio had both begun engaging with the ‘battle’ straight away, but Iago had stubbornly insisted on carrying in their flag, like he always did at the beginning of a battle. The ridiculous thing was that it was not even a proper battle - it was little more than a standard street brawl. It was literally just the three of them up against a few secretive Turks, on normal Venetian soil, not even a proper battlefield. Othello and Cassio had both pointed this out to Iago, but the latter had refused to be deterred, and still carried in the flag despite the fact that it was practically pointless. Of course, Iago ended up missing out on at least a good minute or two of valuable fighting time, and the other two were a tad irritated - but Iago’s excuse was simply that he could never go without performing his duties properly, and that included bearing the flag like he did at the start of every battle - no matter how small or insignificant it was.

This memory is still fresh in Othello’s mind, which is perhaps why he’s so discouraged. Iago’s obstinate nature was tough to get through. Once he had made up his mind, he rarely ever changed it, and so Othello does not exactly have high hopes of being able to get him to speak out.

‘So, Iago,’ Othello begins awkwardly, his gaze flickering from Iago, to the floor, and back again. ‘Hello again…long time no see.’

He almost immediately cringes internally afterwards, wondering why on earth he had said that. It had been less than two days since he’d last seen Iago, which was not long at all. Well. The only person who _would_ find it quite long would be Iago’s lover, if he had one.

_Oh dear goodness, it must have sounded like I was pining after Iago._

Othello feels himself growing slightly hot as Cassio shoots him a quizzical expression, whilst Iago chuckles quietly from the other side of the bars. Yes, he laughs - but he also looks intrigued.

‘I mean, ah, how art thou doing? Is the cell…comfortable?’ 

Othello hastily changes his greeting to questions, but does not think that his new response is much better. Why would the cell be comfortable? He feels it’s a bit of a lame question to ask, but he genuinely did not have one better than that just yet. For some reason, he’s getting a little flustered when addressing Iago [though he has no idea why] and he finds that it actually takes a bit of coherent thought before he can properly speak to Iago without blurting out irrelevant things.

Rather than respond to him verbally, Iago simply leans his head to the side slightly, his gaze mocking and amused. Evidently, Othello’s providing quite a bit of entertainment for him.

Eventually, though, Othello manages to string together a reasonable sentence or two. Okay, so maybe he actually only comes out with three questions, but he’s trying, and it’s certainly better than his previous attempt at making conversation.

‘Tell me Iago, how have the last 24 hours been? What is’t like in that cell? Are you well?’

Iago’s chilling blue eyes meet his. He still does not say a word. He simply shrugs dismissively.

‘Do you, ah, want to talk? It might be good for you to exercise your voice.’

Again, his question is met with silence and the slightest shrug of the shoulders.

Evidently, Othello’s getting nowhere. How is he possibly supposed to get the truth out of Iago if he would not even verbally respond to basic questions? Instinctively, he shoots Cassio a ‘help me’ look, wondering if perhaps the former Lieutenant could coax something out of Iago.

‘Iago, Othello simply wants to start a completely normal, relaxed discourse up with you,’ Cassio says, slightly awkwardly. He’s not anticipating a proper response from Iago - and rightly so, for Iago mirrors his dismissive shoulder-shrugging for the third time in a row.

It looks as though Iago is deciding to maintain his vow of silence, towards everyone and everything. Othello has already begun to look resigned…but suddenly, Cassio gets an idea. He leans forward a little, as if he’s about to tell Iago a secret. He pauses briefly, and then says -

‘You know, Iago…Othello is being forced to leave Cyprus and return to Venice for his…actions. You will not be seeing him again after that, for you are being kept under imprisonment here. However, Othello hath also been told that if he can get you to speak, he will be allowed to remain on Cyprus with you and I.’

Othello himself is bemused, not entirely sure at what Cassio’s getting at. Why would such information make Iago any more willing to speak? He cannot help but feel dubious at first…

‘Is that so?’

…until he hears Iago _finally_ speak.

At first, Othello feels a little taken aback - he was not expecting Iago to respond to Cassio’s information at all. But he decides not to spend too much time questioning it. The more important fact is that Iago is now speaking, and that was the very first step. There is still more to go.

‘Ay,’ He clarifies, sighing. ‘I have been set a…rather specific task by the Duke, which involves you speaking. If all goes well…then I will indeed be allowed to remain here on Cyprus.’

Iago looks amused. ‘Oh? So what’s this task, then?’

Othello stops, debating on whether or not it would be a good idea to divulge the exact details to Iago. After all, he’d finally begun to speak, and Othello doesn’t want to put him off by explaining what he’d been requested to do. Iago could potentially take it two ways. One, go back to his original vow of silence to prevent Othello from finding anything out. Or two, he could actually speak out about his motivations, the true cause for all of his actions…and make everything extremely easier for both himself and Othello as a result.

But considering that it is Iago, Othello guesses that it would be the former. He does not want to risk it…at least, not straight away. He wants to talk to Iago for a little longer before jumping in with all of the intrusive questions anyway.

‘Nothing particular. Anyway, I have a question for you,’ Othello responds, hoping to distract Iago from wanting to know the task. The latter frowns in response, so Othello quickly adds: ‘It is not anything to do with you, technically. It is about this place. The jailhouse.’

Iago visibly relaxes. ‘Ask away.’

‘Why is this place so…so…’ Othello gestures vaguely, trying to find a decent word. ‘…clean?’

Iago leans back against the wall [he’s still sitting on the uncomfortable looking floor] and smirks.

‘Ah, well, I questioned one of the guards about it earlier on today when they came in to give me my daily allowance of bread and water,’ Iago says in an off-hand manner. ‘According to them, ’tis because they don’t want any prisoners to get ill and die from disease.’

Cassio looks confused. ‘They do not?’ He echoes, sounding disbelieving. ‘But ’tis a jailhouse - everyone who is placed in here are criminals in one way or another. Why should the guards care?’

Iago arches an eyebrow. ‘I see you’re implying that I’m a criminal,’ He states, though he doesn’t sound at all offended by it. Instead, it’s as if he’s taking it as a compliment to be indicated a villain.  
‘Anyway,’ he continues. ‘It’s because if any prisoners were to die in here, we’d effectively be missing out on our punishments. You know, like the torture we’re being sentenced to.’

‘I suppose that doth make sense,’ Othello admits. He glances around the inside of Iago’s cramped cell. It has got a bed in it, and a chair plus a small table, but that is all. It does not look messy or unclean inside at all, though there _is_ a mild musky scent coming from inside the cell, and he can already tell that it is rather chilly in there - it’s rather cold in the entire room, not just the cells.  
‘Does it not get cold and damp in there, though? Surely that is not good for you?’

Iago shrugs. ‘It probably isn’t, but ’tis unlikely that these conditions would kill me,’ He responds. He narrows his eyes as he looks from Othello to Cassio and back again. ‘Now then…why don’t one of you explain what this task is? What are you _really_ doing here?’

Othello sighs, echoed straight after by Cassio. Iago is not stupid; he knows that there is more to this task than simply asking him about the conditions of his location.

‘Well…’tis not necessarily the right time to explain it to you,’ Othello responds carefully. 

Iago folds his arms, looking resolute. ‘If you shall not explain it, then I shall speak no longer,’ He says seriously.

Othello and Cassio exchange glances, both of them unsure of which route they should take at this point. On one hand, they would be risking complete silence on Iago’s part if they were to reveal the actual task to him…but on the _other_ hand, they would be risking it even if they did tell him, because it was not likely that Iago would take the information particularly well - especially if he found out that people were, in essence, attempting to pry into his personal thoughts.

After half a minute of intense thought, Othello finally decides that it would be best for them to simply tell Iago the truth. What did they have to lose, if Iago was going to remain silent one way or another? At least with admitting the task to him, his quietness was not necessarily guaranteed.

‘The Duke bade me to come to you…to find out the truth.’

Iago frowns. ‘What “truth” do you speak of?’ He asks, although he already seems to know what Othello means, judging by the sceptical expression on his face.

‘I mean, the truth for your…actions. Your motivations, if you will.’

Iago’s expression shifts from one of scepticism to one of complete indignation. He stands up straighter, his arms still crossed. He looks as intimidating as he used to be, and although Othello knows he shouldn’t, he can’t help himself from feeling a tad wary when looking upon him now.

‘And why,’ Iago asks quietly and seriously. ‘Would I tell you that?’

‘That is a good question…well, of course you are under no circumstances _obliged_ to tell me any of your reasons for this, but I thought that you might have been a bit willing since it would allow for my stay on Cyprus, which would benefit both myself and Cassio…and it would maybe benefit you too.’

Iago snorts derisively, making clear what he thinks of _that_ idea.

‘I pray you, tell me _how_ it would benefit me? Extra torture?’

‘No, of course not. ‘Twould, in fact, result in the opposite.’

‘What, _less_ torture?’

‘None at all - the Duke said that they may not consider torturing you if Othello were to get the truth out of you,’ Cassio interjects.

For a brief moment, Iago appears to look wistful as he contemplates the idea of no torture. It’s almost as if he recognises the benefits of it; he looks like he’s considering complying so that he can enjoy that possibility.

However, the moment is _very_ brief.

‘Why should I tell you anything?’

Cassio and Othello both peer at each other, slightly confused and slightly worried. Iago sounded indignant - was he not going to tell them the truth after all, despite the possible promise of him being spared of torture if he was to do so?

‘Well, because you would probably be spared of your punishment. Do you not want that?’ Othello asks, bemused.

Iago shrugs, seemingly dismissive - but although it’s not entirely obvious, the look in his eyes suggests the opposite. The thought of no torture is appealing to him, but there’s something that is preventing him from disclosing the truth, the only action that would make the notion of no torture possible.

‘I would far rather be tortured than reveal the truth to either of you,’ Iago says bluntly. He folds his arms, his expression hardening, making it clear that there is no chance of getting him to crack.

‘Not even to help me? I really do not want to leave Cyprus,’ Othello reminds Iago quietly. ‘I do not want to leave Cassio, for he is the only person I have left now - and I would not want to leave you either. ‘Twould not feel right, despite all of the chaos you inflicted upon myself and others.’

Iago looks faintly surprised and pleased at the mention of Othello not wanting to leave him [especially as he’s not entirely sure why that is…and if it even means anything]. However, the moment passes and he resumes an impassioned and indignant expression once more.

‘No, not even to help you,’ Iago responds stiffly. ‘Besides…why would I want to help you?’ He adds, sounding withering - although oddly, it almost sounds as if it’s a forced attempt to sound scornful. ‘You undermined my worth in the first place _Moor_ , promoting Cassio over me. I had no reason to be loyal to you, and as far as I’m concerned, you fully deserved what came to you.’

Othello shakes his head and stares at Iago, shocked that he still seemed capable of being so effortlessly cruel even after he had been imprisoned and sentenced to punishment for his crimes. Did this man truly have no remorse whatsoever, or was there something bigger that was being concealed?

‘Iago, I did never intend to undermine you - but I had satisfying reasons to choose Cassio as my Lieutenant, rather than you. ‘Twas not intended to be anything personal.’

Iago arches his eyebrows and gives a little sneer, acting unconvinced.  
‘Yeah, right. That’s why you chose a spinster and arithmetician to be your Lieutenant, is it? I’m sure it was based purely on favouritism. You didn’t have a clue, did you? No wonder everyone began to turn against you. No wonder you killed your own wife - you’re such a halfwit that you couldn’t even distinguish between reality and false reality - all because of your own savageness and stupidity.’

Iago practically spits his words at Cassio and Othello - and certainly they feel like he’s spitting acid at them as he does so, for his words and insults towards Othello burn, as if they are a poison that’s working its way through his system, eating his insides and causing an immense inner turmoil.

He cannot think of anything to say in response. Iago’s words are too jabbing. I’faith, he had thought that Iago was changing a little bit, that he was at least a little apologetic for his actions - but obviously he could not have been more wrong. Iago did not seem sorry in the slightest; nor had he changed at all in the last 24 hours, even with the conditions he was being subjected to.

Cassio takes note of Othello’s halted speech and somewhat crushed expression. Iago’s words have certainly had a negative affect - and now that he’s the governor, Cassio feels that it is in his responsibility to defend Othello and attempt to talk Iago down - maybe even get an apology.

‘Iago, that was not necessary. Prithee, make your amends with Othello - look upon his countenance. See how you have made him feel with thy remarks,’ Cassio requests.  
His tone is perfectly polite and not the least bit patronising or demanding. However, Iago does not heed his request. It only succeeds in making him even more disgruntled.

‘Why should I do that when everything I have stated is the truth?’ Iago demands, deadpan.

‘Because ‘tis not the truth at all. Your insults were too far and completely uncalled for.’

Iago snorts derisively. ‘The only thing I can apologise for is stating the absolute truth.’ He pauses, aims a glance at both Cassio and Othello, then leans back in his cell, plastering an unwelcome expression on his face. ‘Go, leave me. You have no relevance here.’

Cassio and Othello look at each other helplessly. The whole point of them coming to the jailhouse in the first place was to try and get the truth out of Iago in order to secure Othello’s stay on Cyprus. But Iago did not seem willing to divulge anything to them, and if he refused to do so, then what could they do? They could not well force the truth out of him.

‘I said go. Leave me,’ Iago repeats, his tone devoid of expression.

Cassio and Othello both simultaneously sigh deeply in resignation, but take their leave anyway, knowing that nothing they could say or do presently would get Iago to open up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Iago is here!
> 
> Also erm, I do use the term 'Moor' in this chapter and a few others [I think] but I'm not personally racist - it's just me writing how I think Iago would address Othello at certain points.


	12. Am I Everything That He Said I Was?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief conversation between Cassio and Othello in which they reflect on what Iago had said about Othello, and why he might have said it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this one is somewhat short, I'm going to post another chapter along with this.  
> *Spake = Spoke  
> *I'faith = In truth; truly  
> *Cause = Reason  
> [As usual, I apologise for any inaccuracies.]

The two of them make their way back outside the jailhouse in silence. Even when they have to cross the dark and unpredictable corridor for a second time, Othello does not make so much as a peep, and Cassio feels worried about him. He cannot see the former general’s face in the dim light given off by the corridor, but he can sense that something is wrong with him - his silence very much makes that clear.

  
Cassio keeps quiet until they arrive back outside of the jailhouse. He says nothing until he has taken a nice refreshing breath of fresh air, something that feels like a blessing after walking the length of that putrid corridor a second time. He watches as Othello does the same, breathing even more deeply and gratefully than Cassio himself had done - but he still does not say anything. At that point, the former decides to say something. Not only is he eager for the silence to be broken, but he can also see Othello’s face properly in the gentle afternoon sun - and it is not good at all.

  
‘Othello, what is wrong? You have been oddly quiet ever since we parted from Iago’s company.’

  
Then the penny drops, and Cassio is suddenly tempted to kick himself for briefly being a fool. Of course, the things that Iago said to Othello are the cause of his discontent.  
‘…’tis what Iago said to you, is’t not?’

  
Othello nods, closing his eyes. ‘The words that he spake hit me hard, for he was being nothing if not honest.’

  
Cassio stops and gives Othello a sideways glance, wondering if Othello was fully aware of the words that he had just spoken. He had referred to Iago as ‘honest’, despite the fact that the man was anything but; that much had been proven.  
‘Othello, wherefore do you call Iago “honest” now? After everything that he hath done?’

  
‘Because he is being exceptionally honest. Truly, I am everything that he said I was.’

  
Cassio shakes his head, suddenly concerned for the safety of Othello’s wits. ‘Twas one thing to think Iago honest, but to believe what he was had said, particularly after what had happened, was something that Cassio would not have expected anyone to do - especially not the former general.

  
‘I pray you, tell me why you think this,’ Cassio wants to know, shooting Othello a look of concern.

  
Othello shrugs and sighs as if it were obvious.  
‘He implied that I have very little brains; that I am savage and foolish. Is that not correct?’

  
‘Of course not. He probably said so to conceal something. Maybe he did not want to reveal his motives - for a specific cause concerning you.’

  
‘But doth Iago really think that about me, think you?’

  
‘I know not - but if he does think so, he is wrong. I’faith, he is probably trying to hide his feelings.’

  
Othello nods slowly. He’s looking thoughtful, staring off into the distance as if he’s trying to figure out something specific and significant.  
‘Cassio, didst thou see the look on his face when I told him that I did not want to leave him?’ He asks.

  
‘Indeed I did. He was also prompted to speak when I first told him about you leaving Cyprus.’ Cassio responds. ‘Altogether, it seems likely that he is secretly in love with you in some way.’

  
‘Do we aught to confess to him that we know of this?’ Othello wonders, shifting from one foot to the other. ‘If’t be true, then maybe it would make things easier when speaking to him.’

  
‘Perhaps not yet. I think we should wait and give this one more go before we do that,’ Cassio suggests, before glancing at his watch. ‘Oh. I am sorry for the inconvenience, but I must be returning to my lodgings now - I have various paperwork to catch up on and bills that need approving. Are you coming back as well?’

  
Othello shakes his head. He’s looking intently in the distance, and at first, ’tis not clear exactly where he’s looking and why - but after having a glance into the distance himself, Cassio realises that they are close to the shore - the shore that they arrived on when they first docked into Cyprus, before everything happened. It was the point where Othello was at his happiest.

  
How bittersweet that memory must be for him now.

  
‘I may go walk for a little while, though not for too long - I will return to your lodgings betimes,’ Othello says, not drawing his gaze away from the direction of the shore.

  
Cassio nods understandingly. ‘I understand. Promise me that you will be careful.’

  
‘I promise.’


	13. Stubbornness Over Love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iago, now alone in his cell, contemplates his feelings for a particular someone.

Meanwhile, Iago leans against the wall of his cell, staring hard at the food that was brought in to him a minute ago, but not actually paying attention to it. He’s busy contemplating something else.

Did Othello still like him at all?

_He wants to stay in Cyprus - he does not want to leave you. A voice in his mind points out._

‘That means nothing. He doesn’t want to leave Cassio either,’ Iago argues, seemingly with himself - though he’s really arguing with the voice in his head. It’s not being realistic, is it?

_But why should he want to stay in Cyprus for you at all, considering everything that you did? The fact that he doth, despite your actions, must mean something._

‘He’s just being tactful,’ Iago argues. 

_I don’t think so. There’s probably more to it than that, but you’re missing it spectacularly._

‘Well, even if that was the case - which I doubt it is - what difference does it make? He doesn’t know that I love him.’

_Then tell him._

‘Like hell! Knowing my luck now, he probably doesn’t like me at all and I will probably make a fool of myself just by mentioning it. I am not mentioning it to him - I am remaining stubborn, by nature.’

But even after the voice goes away several minutes later, Iago finds himself continuing to think about the prospect of Othello loving him back. Is’t really possible? 

In troth, Iago was expecting Othello to hate him after the treachery and tragedy that he ultimately caused. After all, he drove the former general to killing his wife…what could possibly be worse?

But then, when Othello and Cassio visited him not too long ago, Othello was acting in a perfectly civil [and almost friendly] manner with him, so surely that proved that he possessed some like of Iago? Perhaps more than he might have been willing to let on?

Iago scoffs at the thought. Again, that meant nothing - Cassio, too, had been similarly polite, and Iago knew for a fact that the newly-appointed governor did not have those kind of feelings for him. Besides, even if Othello had still liked him in some way, there is no chance that he still does now, especially not after everything that Iago had said to him.

Okay, so he admits that what he had said was certainly a little harsh - but at the same time, it was necessary, lest either Cassio or Othello caught on to the idea of him loving the latter. He had, after all, accidentally let a few subtle signs slip. But either way, Iago knows that he hath probably gone and blown it now - why would Othello maintain any traces of fondness for him now, unless…

_No. You are just being ridiculous now._ Iago reprimands himself. _Othello is unlikely to have a thing for you - so you must stick to your principles and not breathe a word about your motives, especially not the ones that concern him._

Iago sighs, but feels resolute. He is indeed going to carry on being stubborn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in this fanfic, we're finding out how Iago actually feels - is it realistic?


	14. The Alleyway.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassio decides to walk through an alleyway after being asked several questions by members of the public. But something about the alleyway seems familiar to him, though he cannot figure out why this is at first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very captivating title, I know...  
> ...not.

_I think, next time, I’m going to take the longer route home._

Currently, Cassio is walking back the same way that he and Othello came to get to the jailhouse, and although it is a shorter route, he’s sincerely regretting his choice. 

Why? Because the were several residents of Cyprus along this route, including some of the drunks that were previously hanging around in the alehouse. And, well…a lot of the Cypriots tended to be quite chatty.

Of course, Cassio does not mind people who are talkative in retrospect - in fact, he often likes to stop and have a nice long chat with people, provided that he isn’t in a tearing rush. The reason for him not wanting to talk much this time around is not because he is in a hurry [although those bills and paperwork _do_ need looking at] - ‘tis because there seems to be only one topic on everyone’s minds right now.

They want to know what is going to be happening to Othello. And Iago too, of course, though a lot of the Cypriots seem more interested in finding out about the fate of their former governor.

Out of the 100 or so people that approach Cassio to speak to him [it may be more - he cannot keep count] more than half of them ask him some form of question in regards to Othello or Iago; some of them more direct than others.

For each and every question, Cassio answers them in brief; he cannot bring himself to answer fully, and besides, he doesn’t know _exactly_ what’s going to happen yet. Presently, it seems as though Iago is going to be keeping quiet about everything, to which Othello’s designated task would fail, and he would have no other option _but_ to go back to Venice and face whatever the government had planned for him. Cassio prays that this does not happen, for in his opinion, Othello does not deserve any form of punishment - he’s already had more than enough as of late. 

All in all, Cassio manages to answer the questions that are thrown at him on his way back to his lodgings, and he does a pretty decent job of it. He’s polite, calm, and though his responses are brief, they’re also straightforward. Although Cassio would far rather be alone in his lodgings, rather than be surrounded by people asking questions about topics that he does not wish to dwell on, he cannot deny that things are going surprisingly well all things considered…

‘Governor of Cyprus! Is’t true that you do not want the villain Iago to be tortured?’

…until that very question comes up.

He looks up to see who voiced the question, and his eyes settle on a fairly well-dressed man standing a metre or so away, evidently from the middle-class based on his appearance. His stance and facial expression make him look expectant. Evidently, Cassio has not got the choice but to answer his question, much as he does not want to.

‘I- well, y-you see-’ Cassio begins, stammering as his mind races to think of a suitable answer to provide without giving anything away. ‘Well, ’tis because things are not…definite, yet. We do not know exactly how we are to be punishing Iago yet, and I do not want to go into things too early.’

‘Wherefore do you not know yet? Were you not put in charge of it?’ The man persists.

Cassio simply nods. ‘Indeed I was, and I am, in effect, in charge of it. I am the one who has to carry it out - however, as the victims and the villain in question had ties to Venice, the event hath also been brought to the Venetian government. We are waiting on their verdict.’

‘Right, I see. But my final question is: will you torture him if the Venetian government advocates it?’

This question is far more direct with no easy way of making up any kind of fib or excuse for it. Cassio momentarily freezes in his tracks, unsure of what he should do or say. He cannot bring himself to reveal the truth about his dislike of torture - ’tis too personal - but at the same time, he does not want to lie to anyone in Cyprus. As the governor, it would most likely severely tarnish his reputation - which is why he finds himself blurting out an excuse instead.

‘I am very sorry, but I must be going now: I have a lot of paperwork that I must catch up on. Have a nice day!’

He practically gabbles the last bit, and the second that he’s finished speaking, Cassio takes off at a swift stride to avoid being hassled with any more questions, whether it be new or follow-up ones.

He makes for a nearby alleyway, paying scant attention to the details of it - he just knows that it is somewhere empty, somewhere that is guaranteed to provide him with a bit of breathing space in preparation for the rest of his journey back to his lodgings. In fact, conveniently, on the other side of the alley is the longer route. Considering the amount of people that he hath run into during his walk through the shorter route, Cassio finds that he’s seriously thinking about finishing the rest of the distance by going the longer way back.

At that precise moment in time, however, he just wants to get away from people. It’s not because he’s arrogant or antisocial, it’s just because he does not think he can deal with anymore questions from the public in regards to Othello or Iago or the prospect of torture. They are three topics that he does not particularly want to be thinking about too much at present, partially because he needs to get into the right headspace in order to get through all of the outstanding paperwork that he has to complete once he gets home.

Walking into the alleyway, Cassio decides to have a brief moment of respite, appreciating the fact that there was complete silence in the alleyway - not another person in sight. It seems as though very few people are willing to walk through it, and at first, he’s not entirely sure of why that might be. There was the possibility that it was due to the lack of light in the alley, but surely 99% of the Cypriots were not scared of such conditions?

To be fair, though, Cassio feels a little bit unsettled with the alleyway himself, although he’s not quite sure why that is. There is, after all, no reason for him to be - he’s a soldier, the governor - the darkness of an alleyway should not have been able to faze him, nor should the echoing silence of the passageway. Besides, that was the whole point of him entering it in the first place.

After a little more surveillance of the area, Cassio reaches the conclusion that ‘tis not the darkness, nor the quietness, that makes him uneasy. It is the fact that the alleyway seems familiar.

Something about it just strikes a very faint bell in Cassio’s mind, but he cannot figure out precisely why the alleyway looks familiar. Whether or not he’s been there before, or has been in alleyways similar to the current, he does not know.

Something small shines out of the corner of his eye, and Cassio instinctively looks over to see an abandoned lantern nearby, the light inside of it diminishing. It’s bright enough for him to see that there’s a pillar right next to it, and oddly enough, that pillar seems particularly recognisable. In fact, Cassio feels almost certain that he’s walked past a pillar like that in the last few days…he distinctly remembers seeing it. 

All of a sudden, it hits him. The reason that the pillar and the alleyway in general both seem so familiar is because he had walked through this very alleyway and past this very pillar just a couple of days ago. And the second he had walked past the pillar, someone who had probably also been tricked by Iago [Cassio cannot remember who. The name is on the tip of his tongue, but he cannot recall it] had jumped out at him in an attempt to attack and kill him. Although Cassio had been initially shocked at first, he’d swiftly reacted in self-defence and managed to keep himself from being murdered…but then Iago had come out of the shadows and stabbed him in the leg.

Even now, Cassio can feel the impact on his leg just by the sheer thought of it. As if on cue, the wound on the back of his left leg began to ache and itch. As he leans down to [gently] scratch it, Cassio fleetingly wonders if he will ever be able to forget what had happened in that alleyway. Somehow, he doubted that his leg would - there was almost bound to be a lingering scar of some sort once the wound had fully healed.

He’s so caught up in musing over these abrupt recollections that he doesn’t notice someone else emerging from behind the pillar. Though they’re carrying a lantern, they have it held down by their sides, making it difficult to see their identity. Whoever they are, however, they seem to be heading for Cassio [whom is still blissfully unaware of their presence.]

It’s not until he hears someone cough distinctly, a sound that seems to echo through the emptiness and reverberate in the gentle winds, that Cassio finally clues together the fact that someone else is there in the alleyway with him.

At first, he’s not particularly bothered by it, for it was more than likely another Cypriot, simply walking through the alleyway to get to their destination. But when he looks over at the other person, yet another strong sense of familiarity hits him, and for some reason, Cassio feels that he should know the person approaching him. It is as if he has seen him before…but where?

‘Cassio. You might not know who I am, since both of our encounters were rather brief, but…my name is Roderigo,’ The other person calls out as he advances nearer, until he’s right in front of the governor, whom impulsively grips the hilt of his sword, as if he’s expecting some kind of attack to come straight away. 

Roderigo…that name certainly sounds recognisable to him, and now that the other is closer, Cassio can now properly see his face, and that looks distinctly familiar too. Where on earth does he know this person _from_?

Roderigo must have seen his confused expression, and so he speaks up once again, albeit slightly nervously.

‘Both events are probably quite hazy in your memory…but remember what got you demoted just a few days ago? Remember someone attempting to attack you in this alleyway?’

As soon as this Roderigo mentions those two things, the memories of _both_ times immediately come flooding back. The guy that had angered him in the first place by mocking his manners…that same guy who had attempted to murder him in this very same alley just a few days ago…it had been _Roderigo._


	15. Isolated and Friendless.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roderigo divulges a bit of his past to Cassio.

Instinctively, Cassio tightens his grip on the hilt of his sword as he warily evaluates the man standing before him. Although it doesn’t look as though he’s planning anymore attacks, secret or otherwise, Cassio knows he cannot be too careful. He does _not_ want a repeat of last time.

Roderigo sees him do this, and holds his hands up in defence and reassurance.

‘You don’t need to worry, sir…I am not going to try and attack you or anything. Last time was…a very big mistake on my part, and there’s something that I want to say to you about it.’

His words only serve to tighten Cassio’s grip on his sword even more, to the point where he’s practically strangling the hilt with his hand. He regards Roderigo guardedly.

‘What dost thou want to say?’ He queries, eying Roderigo suspiciously.

‘I wanted to say…I’m sorry for everything. Mocking you, angering you, and finally trying to murder you even though I didn’t have any satisfying reasons to do so. I humbly beg for your forgiveness.’

Cassio does not respond straight away, partly because he’s still a little suspicious. He’s trying to figure out whether Roderigo is being genuine or not. His voice certainly sounds it, but a voice could be as deceitful as a look…Cassio, Othello, and many others had all learnt that recently.

If this had occurred one week ago, Cassio knows that he would have hardly any trouble believing this person’s sincerity. He most likely would have accepted their apology without hesitation, but now…well, he’s become exceedingly more wary of who he trusts, considering that he had stupidly put a lot of his trust into Iago…and where had he ended up? Lying on the cold hard floor with a leg that felt like it had been cut in two, that’s where.

‘I do apologise, Roderigo…I am sure that you are being honest, but I just cannot bring myself to accept straight away - ‘tis nothing personal, but after Iago…’ He trails off, sighing at himself as he remembers how blind he had been to Iago’s true nature. He had dropped hints, none of which Cassio had seemed capable of picking up on.

_‘And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.’_

Iago had gotten that right. Cassio had firmly thought that Iago had loved him [platonically, of course] the entire time, ever since they had become friends, right up until last night. How wrong he had been. If only he’d actually realised the fact that no, Iago was not stating his love for Cassio when he said that - he was not even implying it, not really. But of course, the latter had only just recovered from his drunken state, so he was not fully alert at the time, worst luck.

‘I completely understand that,’ Roderigo responds quietly. ‘Iago manipulated us all…I shouldn’t have let him influence me to the extent that he did. When he told me to kill you, I didn’t have any good reason to, a-and I see that now. I was foolish and immature, but I like to think that I’ve learnt my lesson now. See, I know that you’re a good guy despite everything that Iago said, so I just wanted to try and make things up with you - especially because you pretty much rule over Cyprus now, you know? I…wouldn’t want you banishing me from the island or anything.’

Cassio sighs and regards Roderigo with a sympathetic smile. ‘Worry not - I would never banish anyone from Cyprus. And…I may still be a bit wary of you just now, but I do want to accept your apology. We all made mistakes, after all,’ He adds ruefully, shaking his head.

Roderigo lets out a tentative chuckle. ‘You can say that again,’ he agrees. He smiles back at Cassio before looking further down the alleyway. ‘I suppose I had better let you get on - I’m sure you’ve got a fair bit to do.’

At first, Cassio nods - those bills are not going to pass themselves into law - but something stops him from taking his leave. 

Roderigo’s voice and his facial expression do not sound quite right. He sounds wistful and despairing, and his countenance displays desolation and isolation, not an ounce of happiness or contentment present anywhere. He seems like he is completely and utterly alone.

The other looks so wretched that Cassio cannot stop himself from feeling concerned, and before he realises what he’s doing, he’s got a hand resting on Roderigo’s shoulder.

Roderigo starts at the sudden hand on his shoulder, since he had not expected Cassio to be so concerned about him - surely not enough to go in for physical touch or physical comfort? Instinctively, a blush colours Roderigo’s cheeks, but the he’s pretty sure that Cassio cannot see it - the lantern is too dim to show any distinguishing features, and Roderigo thanks his lucky stars for that.

‘What is wrong, Roderigo?’ Cassio asks gently.

Roderigo finds that he’s unable to answer for a second. His mind is racing and his thoughts are a little jumbled. His thought process is not quite functioning properly at present, because he’s still slightly shocked by Cassio’s touch and concern for him. It is not that he minds it, no - ‘tis just so unexpected.

Eventually, Roderigo finally finds his voice and begins to explain to Cassio why he’s feeling down and [as the governor had correctly assumed] isolated. 

He had lived in Venice for a significant part of his life. His parents had moved there when he was young; he barely had any recollection of living anywhere else.

Life had been pretty decent when he was young - but as he grew older, the quality of his life just seemed to continuously deteriorate on a day-to-day basis.

By the time he was twenty, his parents had both passed on. They had left the house and all of their fortunes to him, and though he was immensely grateful, Roderigo could not feel happy about it. He had nobody to share it with.

As a young child, he’d had a few friends, forming close ties with some of them over the years. But things changed when those friends simply drifted away from him, or when they grew up, got a new job in a different country and moved on, leaving Roderigo where he was. Alone and friendless.

It had been this way for the last year. He’d lived a relatively lonely life in his big house with his inherited fortunes, and he could not enjoy any of it. He was desperately lonely, and was certain that he would trade his inheritance and the house for a friend or a companion in a heartbeat.

That was probably why he became friends with Iago. He had met him one day whilst loafing around outside, alone as usual. Iago had been on some sort of errand - Roderigo could not remember what - but they had bumped into each other [literally…and Iago had not been best pleased at the time] and by the time they parted ways, they had become friends.

Iago was not necessarily the nicest friend Roderigo had ever had - he had a tendency to be insulting towards the latter on more than one occasion, whether it be because he was frustrated or because he just could not be bothered with Roderigo at the time. Of course, Roderigo had always been aware that he was an idiot for taking it all, but Iago was the only friend that he had, and so he did not want to risk losing him. That was why he did his bidding, no matter what it was.

Now, in the present, Roderigo’s in Cyprus and knows pretty much nobody. Iago is the only person that he knows properly, and now that he’s in prison, Roderigo is alone once again. His old feelings from before he had met Iago returned; he feels pathetic for having no friends and being so lonely.

‘I must sound absolutely pathetic to you, governor. A guy who is in his twenties but hath no friends whatsoever? ‘Tis just pathetic.’

‘No, you do not sound such at all, good sir,’ Cassio insists. ‘I myself have only but a few friends - i’faith, less than half a dozen.’

Roderigo stares at Cassio in amazement. ‘Is that true?’

‘Indeed it is, so do not feel so bad about yourself,’ Cassio answers firmly, a small part of his smile returning. He pauses for a brief second, and wonders how Roderigo would react if he was to offer to befriend the man. It was not with the intent of being patronising, but perhaps Roderigo would think that he was being such?

‘If thou wouldst like, we can always be friends...when I'm feeling less wary,’ Cassio suggests, slightly cautiously at first for he knows not how Roderigo may take his suggestion. Thankfully, that same man seems pleased.

‘I should like that a lot, sir. I humbly thank you.’

For the next few minutes, the two of them exchange addresses so that they know where to find each other. After cracking a few jokes here and there and getting genuine laughs out of one another, Cassio decides that he really should be going, lest he completely abandon his paperwork, and he cannot do that.

He and Roderigo arrange to meet up again betimes, before he quickly starts heading through the alleyway, intent on arriving home with at least a couple of hours to spare for the paperwork. As he goes, Cassio muses over how surprisingly nice Roderigo had turned out to be. He had not expected him to be so polite considering what he had tried to do, but Cassio cannot deny that he seems a good friend to have now that he has gotten to know him a bit.


	16. From Violent Tempest to Pure Tranquillity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Othello visits the shore - the same one that he had arrived upon before everything happened. Evidently, he can't stop some of the bittersweet memories flooding back to him. Someone else joins Othello and reveals how they were also fooled by Iago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who continue to show support - it really means a lot and it motivates me to keep going, which I'm really thankful for. <3

The shore looked the same as it had done when he had arrived on it for the first time…excluding the sea. Before, it was a rough and violent tempest. Now, it was in a state of pure tranquillity, the waves being blown about gently in the soft winds whilst the sound of birds could be heard overhead.

It’s certainly a contrast to how Othello’s mind feels right now. It is in no way peaceful and serene in there - it is still a turmoil, as moving and as violent as the sea waves had been during that very storm.

He knows for a fact that he had sailed across the sea and arrived at Cyprus for the first time four days ago or less, and yet it feels like a distant memory to him now. So much has happened in the span of ninety-six or so hours, he’s finding it difficult to keep track of it all. At this point, Othello barely knows what day it is, having to rely on Cassio or passers-by to inform him of the answer.

His arrival on Cyprus is not just a faraway memory - it is also nostalgic. Before he even set a foot on the shore of the island, Othello had spotted Desdemona straightaway, waiting for him at the front of the crowd with a look of passionate exhilaration colouring her features. No less than thirty seconds later, they were holding each other close whilst everyone around them smiled and clapped and expressed their happiness.

And by ‘everyone’, Othello really did mean everyone, _especially_ those who he knew personally. Cassio, Emilia and Montano had been standing by, and all three of them had looked genuinely pleased for the newly-weds. But the person who had been smiling the most was _Iago_.

Memories like that make it seem highly difficult to believe that Iago was the one behind the tragedy. Even now, when it’s clearer than a cloudless sky that Iago’s a scheming manipulator, Othello still struggles to fully comprehend it at times.

Maybe he’s just not ready to accept Iago as the villain that he is. Admittedly, Othello still feels affection for him. Iago had been his trusted ensign - how could he not feel even just a bit of endearment for that same man?

‘Othello?’

He’s startled out of his musings by someone uttering his name nearby. He turns his focus away from the shore and the sea to look over at whoever happens to be addressing him.

‘Oh, good Montano. Greetings,’ He says with an air of awkwardness. Presently, Othello is uncertain of how the former governor perceives him, for the two of them had spoken little since the incident. ‘What brings you here?’ He asks, equally awkwardly.

‘I happened to spot you, alone and looking out over the horizon. Are you well?’ Montano asks.

Othello thinks about it, wondering whether he should respond to that question with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. Whilst he would rather be honest about how he’s feeling, he’s not entirely sure how easy it would be to discuss the tragedy with Montano. He still knows not what the former’s opinion is on him as of late. 

As it stands, Othello says naught at first because he’s unsure of which way he should go about replying. However, he need not reply, because his expression says enough.

‘Never mind the question I just asked,’ Montano says, cutting through the silence with a tone of voice that sounds almost guilty. ‘It is clear to me that you are not happy, Othello. And I think I know why.’ He pauses and gestures significantly to the shore. ‘Hath it got something to do with you remembering thy arrival on Cyprus?’

Othello sighs. ‘It hath got something to do with that, yes.’

‘Do you wish to explain it?’

‘Dost thou want to hear it?’

‘Forsooth, I do.’

‘Very well.’

Although Othello still feels a little bit awkward around the man whom had preceded him in the role of the governor, he manages to explain most of his thoughts to a comprehensible standard. How he was simply stood on the shore, recalling his bittersweet memories of just a few days prior; how he had been at his happiest point, and evidently, the fact that he and Desdemona were still in perfect harmony. Neither of them had even had the shadow of a doubt that something would go wrong in the succeeding days. Othello deeply wishes that they had been correct, but oh, how naïve they had both been.

‘I do see why you feel this way,’ Montano responds after Othello finishes his rather sorrowful account. ‘I, for one, wish that we had caught on about Iago’s nature a lot sooner. We could have averted a major disaster, general.’ Almost immediately after he says it, Montano winces. ‘Sorry, I mean Othello. Sorry.’

Othello shakes his head ruefully. ‘Worry not,’ He answers. ‘You are not the only one who hath been calling me by that title in the last 24 hours. It takes some getting used to.’

Montano nods in agreement. ‘Yes. But I do apologise for everything that hath happened, Othello.’

Othello manages a small smile. ‘You need not apologise, good sir. Everyone that was fooled by Iago seems to be holding themselves at least a little accountable, when there is not a need for it. You are not to blame for the tragic events. You were only fooled a little by that precious villain.’

‘Ay, but as I stated thereof, we could have averted a tragedy if we had realised it sooner.’

‘He gave you little to go by, sir.’

‘In troth, he gave enough. He lied about Cassio on the same night that the brawl took place.’ 

‘Did he? What did he say?’

‘He had claimed that the former lieutenant was a drunkard and drank himself to sleep most nights. Although there was no direct assertion of the fact, he did heavily imply it,’ Montano answers, shaking his head. ‘Had I not been a little tipsy myself, I would have believed it not. I have known Cassio for long enough to be aware of the fact that he hath a low tolerance of alcohol and therefore drinks not. Putting two and two together should have been immediate, to which things could have been worked out from there.’

‘Cassio is indeed most honest,’ Othello declares. He then smiles sadly at Montano. ‘Place the blame on yourself not. Iago had us all fooled. He was, I admit, skilled in his manipulation.’

‘That I can certainly agree with,’

They had all put a little bit too much trust in Iago.


	17. Witchcraft, Recalls, and Promotions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassio is just finishing reviewing some Acts when Othello arrives home. The two of them discuss what they have been doing for the last few hours. Then Othello starts thinking a little in-depth about the promotion that caused Iago to be jealous in the first place, all those days ago...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historically, I'm aware that there wasn't actually a 1661 Witchcraft Act passed in England. In addition, the play 'Othello' also probably wasn't intended to be set around that time either [I've read from sources that it's more likely to be based in 1570, given the context of the wars against Venice and the Turks.]
> 
> The reason for the change in date is because there's someone that I'm introducing later to the story, and given that they were born in 1630, it having the date as earlier than that obviously wouldn't work. 
> 
> It'll make more sense when I post the bit where this person comes in...I hope.
> 
> Either way, hopefully the inaccurate date doesn't ruin the fiction for anyone.

_Proposal for the passing of ‘The 1661 Witchcraft Act’ - in light of the steady spread of witches and acts of witchcraft in other areas of the globe, identification guidelines should be put in place to identify potential individuals. This includes the summoning of familiars and evidence of a diabolical pact through the sporting of a ‘Devil’s Mark’ - random spots, scars, moles, and the like._

Cassio sighs as he finishes reading over the proposal for the sixth time in as many minutes. It’s clear to him that the people of Cyprus are wary about the possibility of witches living amongst them, but Cassio really does not think that an entire Witchcraft Act is necessary. In fact, he has a hard time believing that witches even exist anyway. If it had not been for the publication of the _Malleus Maleficarum_ in 1486 and the passing of _three_ Witchcraft Acts in Britain [a highly influential country on Cyprus] in 1542, 1563 and 1603, then it seems unlikely that witches and witchcraft would have even been a thing - at least, they wouldn’t have been a thing in _Cyprus_.

Either way, regardless of whether or not Cassio believes in them, he does not particularly want to pass the Act. It’s unpleasantly reminiscent of…something that happened in his past, and to agree to pass a 1661 Witchcraft Act in Cyprus just feels…wrong.

‘But, would it be a good idea to oppose this? If’t makes the residents feel safer, it could well be a benefit to them, and their safety is the most important thing here…’ Cassio murmurs to himself, torn over what he should do with the proposal in front of him. For personal reasons, he doesn’t feel comfortable with passing it…and besides, he finds the whole prospect of witches to be false. He doesn’t believe in their existence, but he appears to be in the minority. So, the Act probably _would_ benefit those who are genuinely worried - but he knows not how to go about it.

Before he can give it anymore thought, Cassio hears the sound of the door to his lodgings opening and closing from just outside of the room [the place he used as an office area was right next to the front door] and someone walking inside the house. 

He’s aware that it’s Othello, for nobody else has been given access. As he stretches his arms, Cassio decides to take a momentary break from his paperwork to greet the former general and find out how he is. Although Othello had assured Cassio that he would be okay, the latter is not completely sure; he has his suspicions that Othello was experiencing very sorrowful memories and agonising emotions. His expression when they had departed had not been a happy one, and considering that he was headed towards the Cyprus shores, Cassio was able to easily put two and two together. The shores were, after all, a painful reminder of Othello’s happiest point before everything kicked off.

‘Good after--’ Cassio pauses in his greeting and glances at his watch. It’s now closer to the evening - 18:00, to be exact. Clearly, Cassio had been more engaged with the paperwork than he had realised, for time seemed to have flown past.

‘I mean, good evening, Othello. How was your walk?’

Othello smiles, though it seems a little forced.  
‘It was…reasonable, I suppose. The shore reintroduced me to a lot of bittersweet memories.’

‘I can only imagine. Is there anything that you need to talk about, then?’ Cassio asks gently.

Othello shakes his head.  
‘No, I think the walk back here gave me enough time to adjust myself and clear my head,’ He responds. He then pauses, looking curious.‘Tell me, Cassio…are you aware of what Iago said on the night he got you drunk?’

‘I remember bits and pieces. But specifically?’

‘Specifically, what he said about you.’

An instantaneous silence follows as Cassio frowns and takes a moment to recollect everything that he could remember from that night. A lot of it is quite shady in his mind - no wonder, he was _drunk_ \- but he’s certain that Iago had not said anything about him in specific. As far as he can remember, the latter had only provided him comfort and kind words immediately after he was demoted.

‘As far as I remember, he said not a thing about me, aside from when he was explaining to you what had befall’n - and even then he was feigning kindness and love.’

Othello nods and sighs.  
‘Yes, I remember him doing so too. How foolish of me to have thought that he was downplaying it for your benefit when ‘twas the opposite.’

‘Reprimand yourself not. ‘Tis difficult to tell when Iago really means something and when he doth not,’ Cassio points out. ‘Anywho, wherefore do you ask me this?’

‘I was speaking with Montano earlier when I was on the shore,’ Othello begins. ‘And he happened to mention that Iago had lied about you that night. I knew not if you were aware of it.’

Cassio shakes his head, his expression a combination of indignation and vague surprise.  
‘No, I was not aware of it. Why, what did he say?’

‘He told Montano that you were often drunk and drank yourself to sleep almost every night. More or less, he strongly indicated that you were a drunkard.’

After Othello finishes speaking, Cassio occupies an offended look. Evidently, he’s not in the least happy to hear that Iago had spread such a lie about him - and what a lie it was too. Quite apart from the fact that he _rarely_ drank any alcohol at all [partly because drunkenness was a sin] he had a low tolerance of it; surely everyone had seen that? He had been more or less intoxicated whereas everyone else seemed perfectly sober…and they had drunk more than himself!

‘That fabrication could not stray from the truth anymore if’t tried,’ Cassio declares. ‘Didst Montano believe such a falsehood?’

‘Forsooth, he did admit to believing it, but only because he was a little tipsy himself at the time. Had he been otherwise, he would have believed it not.’

Cassio nods, seemingly satisfied with that response. It was certainly inconvenient that Montano had been fooled at the time, but at least he knew the truth now. He cannot help the small sense of indignation that is burning up inside of him, though. How could Iago do such a thing?

The second that Cassio asks himself that, he has to resist the urge to kick himself for the sheer stupidity of the question. Iago hath done exponentially worse things - he’s killed one person directly, contributed in the murder of another, attempted to kill two, and came close to causing someone’s suicide. How can Iago’s simple lie about him be so surprising, compared to everything else he hath done? 

‘How was your walk home?’ Othello asks, interrupting Cassio from his musings. ‘Was it peaceful?’

‘No,’ Cassio responds, smiling reproachfully at the memory of being asked several questions, and the pressure to respond to them all at a reasonable standard that did not include too much of a lie. ‘I was approached by several, and asked just as many questions. It got a little overwhelming, so I went into an alleyway for a few minutes.’

Othello arches his eyebrows. ‘An alleyway?’ He echoes, sounding slightly disbelieving. ‘I did not think you would want to enter one. Not after…?’

Cassio shrugs and smiles. ‘’Twas alright after a minute or two. But that is not even the most surprising part,’ He responds. ‘As it had turned out, that alleyway was the same one.’

The same alleyway where you were stabbed?’

‘The same indeed,’ Cassio responds. He smiles upon recollecting what happened. ‘In fact, I ran into someone there. Roderigo, a Venetian. Doth that name ring any bells?’

‘Ay, a faint one. Was he blamed by Iago for the attempt to murder thee?’

‘Correct. He was the one who had been set on by Iago; used as his pawn.’

‘Didst he apologise for his actions? Didst he try and murder thee again?’

‘No, he did not try to murder me. He actually apologised for what had happened that night.’

Othello smiles in relief. Admittedly, he had been worried that Roderigo might have tried to murder Cassio again. Thank goodness that things seemed to be going okay between them now.  
‘So what of it?’ Othello asks curiously. From the look on Cassio’s face, he hasn’t yet finished telling his recount. 

Cassio’s smile wavers slightly. ‘Well, that same man told me that he was rather lonely. He thought it was pathetic that he had no friends. Up until now, he had Iago as a friend, but of course…’ Cassio trails off, not finishing his sentence.

He doesn’t need to. Othello knows what he means.

‘I did offer to befriend him though, and he seemed quite happy about that,’ Cassio then adds.

Othello shakes his head and mirrors what remains of Cassio’s smile. He’s not in the least bit surprised that Cassio offered to make friends with Roderigo - his former Lieutenant was one of the friendliest people he knew. That, along with his skill and reliability, was mainly _why_ he’d chosen to promote him in the first place. Chosen to promote him over Iago.

The promotion. It had been one of Iago’s main motives, hadn’t it? It was partially why he had been jealous of Cassio, why he was angry with Othello. He was bitter; as far as he was concerned, Othello’s choice had been based purely on favouritism rather than skill, even though the latter had legitimate reasons for his decision. But Iago saw them not.  
Othello’s mind begins to raise questions. 

_Perhaps things would have turned out differently if he had explained his reasoning?_

_Would promoting them both together have solved it?_

_Iago had proven his true nature. Not putting Iago in the position of Lieutenant had been a good call - hadn’t it?_

‘Othello? You look miles away,’ Cassio’s voice cuts through Othello’s musings. He regards the latter with a concerned look. ‘Is everything alright? What is on thy mind?’

Othello blinks as his focus slowly shifts back to the present and he shoots Cassio a reassuring smile. ‘I am fine, thank you. I was just thinking about something…interesting.’

Although Cassio does not look fully convinced, he doesn’t try to pry; he simply nods understandingly and suggests that they retire for dinner in a few minutes, for the evening was drawing in close.


	18. The Right Choice, or the Wrong Choice?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it becomes closer to night-time, Othello and Cassio discuss Othello's decision to promote Cassio to lieutenant all that time ago. Did he make the right choice, or did he not?

Othello continues to ponder the questions in his mind throughout almost all of the evening.

Whilst he and Cassio have their dinner, a conversation about the possible passing of the Witchcraft Act comes up - a topic that Cassio mentions, of course - he wants to get Othello’s opinion on Witches and perhaps some advice on what to do for a compromise [for he still feels rather divided over what to do with the Act.]

Cassio explains to Othello that he personally feels that it would be wrong to pass such an Act, and although Othello himself is not exactly in the camp of people that believe in the existence of Witches, he’s a little confused with Cassio’s personal dislike of it at first. 

Othello’s confusion and curiosity prompts him to request that Cassio elaborate a little on his point - why exactly does he personally oppose the idea of a Witchcraft Act?

At first, Cassio appears reluctant to expand on his claim. He looks unsettled and pained, but only for the briefest of moments. However, he does not answer Othello’s question straight away, and Othello cannot help but wonder if there is something that Cassio is keeping from him…from _everyone_ …about his views on Witchcraft.

He _does_ end up expanding on his original explanation upon Othello’s request, to which he asserts that some of the outlined rules are not fair. The ‘Devil’s Mark’ being an example - how could someone possibly be convicted on the grounds of simply having a scar or a spot? ‘Twas not something that should be done, morally speaking.

And Othello ends up admitting that he can see where Cassio is coming from. Indeed, there certainly seems possible that many innocent individuals would be accused, simply because they had a mark on their body that could have been caused by a great number of things. He finds it a little difficult to give direct and helpful advice to Cassio’s dilemma - after all, when he was governor of Cyprus for all of three days, he didst not have to sign any bills or acts.

After a brief period of intense thought, Othello suggests that Cassio ask around a little; get the opinions of various Cypriots. That way, a slightly more informed decision could be made.

After Cassio finishes washing the dishes with soap and some water collected from a nearby well, the two of them spend the rest of the evening playing chess. Certainly, the games are entertaining - in fact, at one point, Othello has to explain to Cassio how half of the pieces worked, for the latter had played it so little. After that, though, it’s smooth sailing, and both of them manage to win at least two games against the other.

However, it becomes clear to Cassio that Othello is more than a little bit distracted by something. Although he engaging with the game at a perfectly reasonable standard, he seems to have other things on his mind. Several times, particularly when it’s Cassio’s turn to make a move, Othello simply stares into space with a pensive expression on his face, and though Cassio really wants Othello to speak to him as to his thinkings, he decides to see if Othello would admit to anything first.

And, after a while, he does.

It’s not until they are getting ready for bed that Othello starts to bring up the questions that had been on his mind since earlier on.

‘Cassio, dost thou reckon that I was right in not promoting Iago to lieutenant?’

Cassio cannot resist a small chuckle of amusement. ‘Well, I think you’ll find that I might be a bit biased, considering that you promoted me instead,’ He responds, beginning to mark the intervals and insert the nails into his candle alarm clock on his bedside table.

‘But dost thou really think - tell me, Cassio - that it was the right thing to do?’

‘Well, it doth really depend on _why_ you chose to promote me instead.’

Othello momentarily thinks about why he chose Cassio. Well, it was easy: because he was friendly, empathetic and sympathetic, and though his practical skills were on point, his power of logic was even better, which was always a key characteristic.

Othello says all of this to Cassio, whom looks visibly pleased to hear about what Othello thinks of him.

‘And what were thy reasons for not promoting Iago, if thou hadst any?’ He asks.

‘Well, even back then Iago didn’t seem quite… _stable_ enough. I had noticed that he had a tendency to get jealous easily, which was one reason why I wanted to promote him not,’ Othello admits, sighing deeply before continuing. ‘He was, and still is, extremely stubborn, and I found he was less of a sympathetic person…being in such a high rank would require at least a decent amount of connection skills.’

Cassio nods in his agreement. ‘I mean not to be rude, but I did always find him a little hard to connect with, even when we first became friends.’

‘Exactly,’ Othello agrees. ‘I found that you were generally more likeable and approachable. That, along with the reasons I stated *before*, is why I chose you and not Iago…but should I perhaps have promoted Iago too?’

‘Well, ‘tis not really my place to say. Thou were the one who made the judgement; I am sure that you only did what thou thought was right. I will say, that perhaps having someone as stubborn as Iago in that kind of position would have been far from ideal…’

‘I think so too,’ Othello responds, relieved that Cassio is agreeing with him on the matter. ‘But all of this hath made me wonder if I handled the situation correctly. Iago’s jealousy, I did not even notice until recently, and by then it was too late. If I had noticed it before, I may have been able to prevent everything. Tell me, Cassio - was Iago’s jealousy obvious to thee?’

Cassio shakes his head. ‘Not in the least. I had been under the impression that Iago was at peace with everything. He never seemed to raise any issue.’

Othello sighs. ‘Ay, and that is partly what the problem was. His plotting and the execution of those same plots, were all done subtly. None of us had a clue until it was too late. But Cassio…governor…prithee tell me what thou think’st. Did I handle it correctly?’

Cassio pauses the process of fiddling with his candle clock and sits down on the bed so that he’s directly facing Othello.

‘I personally think that you handled it just fine. You were not aware of the consequences, nor were you aware of Iago’s true nature. You did what any other general would have done, and promoted one of your soldiers accordingly…or so I like to think. But you cannot blame thyself for not promoting Iago, or not explaining things to him, because as far as thou were concerned, Iago was fine with it all. Since thou art not a mind reader, there is no cause for you to lament your past actions that may have contributed to the cause of Iago’s villainy.’

Othello nods, gladly accepting Cassio’s response. ‘Tis very logical, assuring and well-thought out all at the same time. He had always prided himself with his speech, mostly when he was telling some of his famous tales from his past - but it seemed that, with speech like that, the new governor was rapidly becoming a worthy contender for who had the best speech.

Othello tells Cassio such, to which he laughs and asserts that Othello’s speech would always beat his own. His way of describing his past experiences could not possibly be rivalled.

Within the next few minutes, both of them are completely ready for bed. Neither of them get much further than exchanging a ‘goodnight’ towards one another before promptly falling asleep. After all, it had been a busy day for them both.


	19. Surprise Emergency Meeting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassio and Othello are woken up early to someone knocking insistently upon the door...

_Knock, knock, knock._

Cassio is abruptly startled awake by the sounds of someone banging on his door. His mind is still foggy from sleep, so at first he thinks that he’s simply hearing things…

_Knock, knock, knock._

…until a second round of knocking upon his door sounds, the sheer noise of it startling him once again. This time it’s loud enough to wake Othello up, who groans a little before sleepily murmuring ‘What time is’t?’

Cassio rubs his bleary eyes and glances over at the candle clock on his bedside table, squinting a little to make out the markings. Since there’s still a nail or two in place, it must be earlier than he was intending to wake up.

‘’Tis 6:00am,’ Cassio responds, baffled. Who could possibly be at the door at this time of the morning? It was not like he was expecting any visitors.

‘You are not expecting anyone, are you?’ Othello murmurs, still half-asleep.

‘No,’ Cassio answers, shaking his head. ‘I know not who’t might be--’

**_Knock, knock, knock._ **

Another three successive pounds on the door interrupt him. It is at that point that he decides that it would be best for him to go and see who is out there before they break the door down or wake up the whole street.

Cassio quickly gets out of bed and peers at himself anxiously in the mirror. By God, he looks a sight - his hair looks as though it’s been struck by a thousand volts, and his night-gown appears to have gotten a bit creased. Clearly he had tossed and turned a lot in the night.

Either way, he does not particularly want anyone to see him in such a state. Cassio intends to start quickly throwing on his clothes whilst trying to neaten his general appearance - but he only gets as far as putting his trousers on over his night-gown before there is yet another series of knocks at the door - and from the sounds of things, whoever is out there is beginning to get a tad impatient.

 _Agh, forget it._ Cassio says to himself as he quickly puts on his boots and rushes out of the room and downstairs. He’s barely half-dressed and his hair is _still_ a mess because he hasn‘t had the chance to comb it, but he just hopes and prays that the person at the door does not notice his dishevelled appearance.

‘Good-morning-sorry-to-have-kept-you-waiting--’ Cassio begins to gabble a greeting and an apology to the other person as he pulls open the door, revealing the person on the other side as-- Lodovico?

He’s standing there, fully dressed, clean and tidy - clearly he had not just gotten out of bed. Immediately, Cassio feels rather self-conscious about his very much ‘just woken up’ state. His voice halts in the midst of his rushed apology for his tardiness and appearance as he stares at Lodovico, looking him up and down and wondering what on earth he’s doing there.

‘Um, good morrow, Lodovico. I humbly apologise for keeping you waiting,’ Cassio responds once he finds his voice again. ‘And sorry for the appearance…I was not expecting any early-morning visitors.’

Lodovico smiles sympathetically. ‘Yes, I did not think you were. I do apologise for coming by at such an early and unprecedented time, but ‘tis for a rather important cause.’

‘Oh?’ Cassio says warily, leaning against his door-frame. ‘What is the matter?’

Lodovico bites his lip. As he does so, his expression swiftly changes from neutral to plaintive whilst the atmosphere too changes, to one full of tension. He does not answer straight away.

Cassio watches him carefully, frowning. ‘Tis quite clear that something is wrong - after all, a meeting would not have been called in the first place otherwise - but what was it? Considering Lodovico’s expression, it seems serious whatever it is.

‘Sir, what is the matter?’ Cassio prompts, looking concerned. He pauses briefly and then puts a tentative hand on the other’s shoulder. ‘Please tell me.’

Lodovico simply sighs sadly. ‘’Tis something to do with mine Uncle…but it would be best if we were to discuss this matter in the emergency meeting that hath been called for.’  
Cassio echoes his sigh, but nods in resignation. ‘Understandable. Right, an emergency meeting…and when do you need me by?’

‘Within the next forty-five minutes would be handy, if you would mind not. The meeting is at the same place that we held the last one.’

‘Alright. I shall be with thee betimes.’

‘I pray you, bring Othello with you, if you can. He hath also been called for. Oh, and Lord governor…’ Lodovico pauses, gesturing to Cassio in a slightly awkward manner. ‘I know I am only giving you forty-five minutes, but I would highly recommend that you make yourself look as presentable as you possibly can in that time. Both you and Othello.’

Cassio nods, but is a little confused. Doesn’t he generally make sure that he looks presentable anyway?

‘So I will, sir…but is there a specific reason for that?’

‘Well, all I should really say is that there is going to be a…visitor there, sir; I would strongly recommend that you try to give him a good first impression. I know you give good first impressions anyway, but…he _is_ quite powerful.’

‘Who is it exactly?’

‘Ah, ‘tis probably best if I let you find out for yourself. See you in forty-five minutes?’

Cassio nods. He’s got a fair few questions running through his head, such as ‘Who is thy Uncle?’ & ‘Who is this “visitor”?’ and ‘Why hath both Othello and I been sent for?’, but he can sense that it is not quite the right time to voice all of these. Instead, he bites them back and simply nods in response to Lodovico’s requests.

Once Lodovico leaves, Cassio shuts the door behind him and goes power-walking back up the stairs, his questions still swirling around his mind. Othello is up by this time, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes to get the remains of the sleep out of them. He looks [appropriately] curious.

‘Who was it at the door?’ He wants to know, covering a yawn with the back of his hand.

‘’Twas Lodovico. Apparently an emergency meeting hath been called. ‘Tis something to do with his Uncle, but he did not go into details.’ Cassio responds. He rushes around, combing his hair at the same time as finishing getting dressed - he’s multi-tasking, but doing a surprisingly reasonable job at it.

‘You are in a rush,’ Othello comments, watching him dash about. ‘Wherefore?’

‘I am needed for the meeting in about twenty-five minutes, and so are you.’

‘Me?’ Othello repeats, baffled.

‘Yes. Like I said, Lodovico did not go into details,’ Cassio answered, slightly breathlessly for he was in such a rush.

Othello springs into action then, starting to quickly dress himself and brush his hair. Now he also has several questions clogging up his mind, possibly ones that are similar to Cassio’s, but there’s no point in asking them. The former knows about as much as him in regards to this ‘emergency meeting’: as in, hardly anything at all. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A-Level revision has been taking over my life.

By the time the clocks strike 6:15am, the two of them are out on the streets of Cyprus, heading towards their destination of the Great Hall where the meeting is due to be held. Neither of them say much as they walk along as both of them are preoccupied with various questions about the upcoming meeting. Since it’s still relatively early in the morning, the amount of people walking around are few and far between. The only people Cassio and Othello really see are watchmen on their way home from work and tax collectors wandering around, getting ready to knock on people ’ s doors to demand their tax payments. All of them stop to briefly smile or nod at Cassio, and a few of them warily nod at Othello too, but that is all. It is just as well really, since both of them are so distracted with their questions that they are therefore responding very little, to both each other and other people.

As they walk, Cassio just cannot distract himself from the array of questions in his mind. He feels highly inquisitive, concerned, and also a little nervous. His inquisitiveness speaks for itself, and his concern is stemming from the fact that obviously something bad has happened to Lodovico’s uncle, whoever he may be. His nervousness comes from the knowledge that there’s going to be a visitor there, one whom Lodovico has claimed is ‘quite powerful’. Cassio places great value on his reputation, and therefore always worries a little [okay, a lot] before directly meeting someone new, especially if they had a significant amount of power and influence.

Ever since the accidental brawl from the day they first arrived in Cyprus, he’s been a little more protective over his reputation and image to other people, lest he end up mirroring the dark days in which he lost his reputation and his position.  _Very_ dark days, indeed.

Othello can tell that Cassio’s a bit anxious. Why, he feels similar himself, for he’s worried about how this powerful individual might perceive him - a man who’s recently fallen from nobility as a result of murdering his own wife - well, that wouldn’t make anyone think of him kindly, would it? Especially if they were not aware of the full of it.

‘You are a bit nervous, are you not?’ Othello hisses to Cassio. He would ask him normally, but they are currently walking past a gaggle of people who are eyeing him suspiciously; he does not want to give them any more reasons to be suspicious.

‘Yes,’ Cassio responds, his own voice just as low. ‘I have no idea who this “visitor” is.’

‘Lodovico did say he was powerful, did not he? Perhaps ‘tis the Duke.’

‘Perhaps. But then he would have simply told me so. Lodovico acted as if I knew not the person.’

‘Hmm…’

Othello falls silent as he tries to figure out precisely who might be attending the emergency meeting. He’s got a few individuals in mind - Brabantio, the Duke, Marcus Luccious - but neither of them seem likely, and other than those names, he’s drawing a blank.

‘Well, I guess we will just have to wait and find out.’

‘Mmm,’ comes Cassio’s vague reply.

Maybe it’s just as well that they are both relatively close to their destination now. In fact, after turning a corner, the hall clearly in their line of sight. Once the two of them get close enough, they’re able to make out Lodovico standing at the entrance - but there is nobody with him. No Gratiano, no mysterious visitor - it’s just him.

‘Good morrow, governor and Othello,’ Lodovico calls once Cassio and Othello come within earshot. ‘I thank you for your punctuality. Shall we enter?’

‘Foorsooth, we shall, good Lodovico. But one thing…’ Cassio pauses and surveys the scene, acting as if this ‘visitor’ and Gratiano are hiding somewhere nearby. ‘I understand that you said you were going to be accompanied by Gratiano and another visitor?’

Lodovico nods. ‘And so I did, sir,’ he affirms. ‘They are both waiting inside. Shall we accompany--’

‘Wait,’ Cassio interrupts anxiously. He passes his hand over himself. ‘Do I look presentable?’

Othello lets out a slightly amused chuckle from beside him. ‘You look great, Cassio. Worry not.’

Lodovico agrees. ‘Both of you look perfectly presentable. Now, are you ready?’

‘Yes, yes…let us go in,’ Cassio responds, breathing in deeply.

Othello shoots him an encouraging look, to which he returns in gratefully.

Lodovico pushes open the door to the Grand Hall, and indicates for Cassio and Othello to enter first. Cassio goes first, nodding at him thankfully. Othello then follows him in, verbally thanking Lodovico along the way. Then he abruptly bumps into Cassio’s back, having not noticed that the governor had stopped in his tracks.

Othello carefully edges round him to find out why - and then has to suppress a gasp of surprise.

There, sitting gracefully next to Gratiano at a table, is their visitor…

…but neither he nor Cassio had quite been prepared to see someone of such power and status…


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the visitor is revealed. The 'meeting', or whatever it was supposed to be, ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, you probably weren't expecting this.

‘Hello, governor. Hello - Othello, is it?’

It is King Charles II of England.

Rather than responding to his greeting, Cassio immediately bows, with Othello hastily following suit. Neither of them had been expecting a  _royal monarch_ to be visiting them.

Which then raised the question…why  _was_ he visiting them? 

‘Hello, your, uh, your majesty,’ Cassio blurts out, praying that he does not sound too foolish. ‘Are you well?’

‘Quite well, thank you,’ Charles responds, smiling easily. ‘And yourself?’ He asks, aiming the question at both Cassio and Othello.

Of course, neither of them are doing quite as well as the King seems to be…but they do not wish to go into details. Instead, Cassio responds with a simple ‘yes’, as does Othello.

‘Although, if you mind not my asking…why are you here, your majesty?’ The latter wants to know.

Charles’s smile visibly falters then.

‘I have heard of the disaster that had befallen Cyprus, involving you, Iago, if I am correct, and quite a few deaths,’ he answers sympathetically. ‘I came by to extend my sincere condolences.’

‘But do you not have an entire country to attend to, your majesty?’

‘Ah, not at the moment. I already informed my subjects of what I was intending to do, and appointed several trusted advisors to be in charge whilst I am away. My top advisor does a brilliant job of it,’ Charles adds, smiling fondly. ‘Oh, and please do not feel it necessary to refer to me as “your majesty”. “Sir” will do if you absolutely wish to keep things formal, but otherwise you can just call me Charles - or even “Merry Monarch”, if you prefer it.’

It’s Cassio’s turn to smile then. ‘Ah, I have heard that the people of England coined such a nickname for you, sir.’

‘They did indeed,’ Charles confirmed cheerfully. ‘And that is because I throw some brilliant parties.’ He adds with a wink. Then his expression shifts to a solemn one – or at least, as solemn as the Merry Monarch was capable of getting. ‘But, I digress – I am also here to offer any help that I can. However, I do believe that there is something else that must be said first…’ He stops and glances sympathetically over at Gratiano, whom has been sitting there quietly up to this point. Upon being addressed, he nods graciously, before turning to Cassio and Othello.

‘Cassio, Othello…you probably were aware of this not, but mine brother, Brabantio, hath unfortunately passed away. He passed some days ago,’ Gratiano reveals, sighing deeply. He rests his chin on one of his hands and stares hard at the tabletop before him in an effort to keep himself together, whilst Charles pats him on the back sympathetically.

Othello struggles a little. ‘I am…very sorry for thy loss,’ He murmurs, doing his best to sound apologetic, though it’s a difficult task, considering how his last encounter with Brabantio had gone, after he found out that Othello had secretly married Desdemona. It had not gone well at all.

‘You both have my condolences,’ Cassio says softly, his voice sounding more sincere than Othello’s. Although he had not known Brabantio particularly well himself [and had been wary of that same man for he was widely reputed throughout Venice for possessing a frightful temper] he is well aware that Gratiano had been close to him - and no wonder, given that they were brothers.

_Hold on. If Brabantio was Gratiano’s brother and Lodovico’s uncle…then does that mean that Gratiano is Lodovico’s father?_ Cassio t hinks to himself suddenly. It sound s  about right,  but it’s such a revelation to him.

‘If I may just briefly interpose…doth that mean that you are Lodovico’s father?’ Cassio asks of Gratiano.

He nods. ‘Indeed I am.’

‘Oh!’ Cassio responds, a little shocked. The fact was comes as quite the surprise to him, since he never would have guessed that they were father and son otherwise. He had always assumed that the two of them were related somehow, but he realised not how _closely_ related they were.

‘Wow,’ Othello says quietly. ‘I had no idea either. If I may ask, what happened to him?’

Gratiano shakes his head despairingly. ‘He passed of a broken heart.’

Upon seeing Cassio and Othello’s confusion, he elaborated a little. ‘He became so betrayed and upset at Desdemona and Othello’s marriage that it…well, it must have caused his heart to break.’

Whilst Cassio nods sadly, Othello occupies a guilty look. He’s feeling totally guilty now.

‘I am so sorry,’ he mumbles to both Gratiano and Lodovico. ‘I realise that I am, in part, to blame for this tragedy, for I am the one who married his daughter in the first place. Had I known that the match was mortal to him, I would have not done it so.’

‘Oh no,’ Lodovico interjects, sounding insistent. ‘Blame yourself not, Othello. His heartbreak was largely due to how your marriage to Desdemona had been portrayed to him. Someone depicted it in a really negative way, and caused Brabantio to believe it all.’

‘Who?’ Othello asks, his guilty tone of voice giving way to one that’s slightly more indignant.

‘It was Iago,’ Gratiano answers, a slight snarl forming in his voice as he digs his fingernails into his palm.

‘Iago did that?’ Cassio and Othello exclaim simultaneously. Really, they should have guessed that Iago would be the person behind all of it, given what he has proven he’s capable of just recently.

‘Iago is the one who inflicted all of this treachery and tragedy upon you all, is he not?’ Charles checks, just to ensure that he’s getting his facts right.

‘Yes, your majesty. And indeed, he did,’ Lodovico clarifies, his tone less riled than his father’s, but one that’s still noticeably angry. ‘Which is why we called the two of you hence to begin with. Prithee tell us, hath Iago yet confessed a truth?’

Cassio and Othello exchange resigned glances before one of them responds to Lodovico’s question.

‘No, he hath not yet confessed anything to us,’ Cassio admits. ‘We did try yesterday, but it did not go well.’

‘That is a shame,’ Gratiano comments, sighing irritably. ‘I should quite like an explanation as to why he did what he did to mine brother.’

Lodovico nods in understanding. ‘As would I, father,’ he agrees. ‘What exactly happened yesterday when you tried to get him to confess?’

‘He got defensive rather quickly,’ Othello recalls. ‘And then he demanded that we leave him. He was, at first, quite civil - but after we asked him, he turned offensive. Evidently, he did not like to tell us anything, and I do suspect that he only began to act so harshly in order to conceal these truths of his.’

‘Were you planning on trying again today?’

‘Yes...’

‘Then perhaps I could accompany you? Perhaps Iago might give in if there was to be a little more peer pressure,’ Lodovico suggests.

Cassio smiles at his suggestion, but it does not look genuine.

‘You may well join us,’ he says. ‘But I do not think that an extra person would much convince Iago to open up. He is a tough one to crack.’

‘Do you think that he might confess if I was to join you?’ Charles asks. ‘Perhaps some authority might convince him more.’

Cassio and Othello look each other in the eyes, both attempting to quietly and telepathically ask the other if they think that the suggestion is a good idea. They both exchange a slight nod.

‘Why, that could just work, sir.’ Cassio responds thankfully. ‘So long as it is of no inconvenience to you?’

‘Not at all. I must make tracks to return to England in a day or two,’ Charles states. ‘But there should be no problem at all otherwise, as long as you are planning to pay a visit to Iago today?’

‘Oh yes,’ Othello answers, nodding. ‘That is exactly what we were intending, sir.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A totally random visitor, I agree. But for some reason I have become exceedingly interested in 17th Century England [aka the Stuart era] so...there you go.
> 
> *In case you haven't already realised, this takes place in the 1660's rather than the 1570's, which was the time period of the conflict between Turkey and Venice/Cyrpus referenced in the original play. I think.*


	22. I Need to Start Naming Chapters Again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four of them [Lodovico, Cassio, Othello and King Charles] decide to pay a visit to Iago right then and there. Before they do, however, Lodovico quickly takes Gratiano aside to discuss something with him.
> 
> In the meantime, it's clear that Othello is feeling more than a little guilty about Brabantio's death. King Charles II knows very little about what happened, so Cassio gives him a brief rundown, to which the former then proceeds to reassure Othello that he is not at fault. This is echoed by Lodovico [when he finishes conversing with Gratiano] and Cassio.
> 
> They then briefly decide on their plan, where Cassio debates [mostly to himself] whether or not the presence of royal authority will have any impact on Iago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're at the end of the pre-written chapters - in fact, I wrote the second half to this chapter just today. Let's hope that the quality of writing doesn't start to slip up.

The four of them decide to pay Iago a visit as soon as the meeting finishes. There is [to employ a common idiom] no time like the present

Cassio does suggest that Gratiano could accompany them too, but the latter declines. He thinks that it would be for the best if he didn’t join them, for he’s still feeling furious over what has happened with Brabantio, and he admits – openly – that he would be likely to inflict violence upon the villain if he so much as saw his face.

This is completely understandable, considering that Iago had contributed to his brother’s death. Although he had not done it literally by his own hand, it had been his hostile and disgusting words that had gotten Brabantio all worked up in the first place. He had had absolutely no cause for doing so, and that just seems to add salt to an already salty wound.

The others understand, of course, but they do agree that it would probably be better for Gratiano to keep his distance from Iago in order to avoid any conflict.

Before they leave for the jail-house, Lodovico takes his father aside to have a brief, private chat with him. They’re speaking in low tones so that nobody else can hear their words, but from the desolate and heartbroken expressions colouring both of their faces, it doesn’t take great powers of deduction to figure out who they’re talking about.

Whilst the discourse goes on, the other three wait at the side, near the door, either glancing at the floor awkwardly or shuffling their feet as they wait. Othello, although having already been assured that he isn’t at fault for what had happened, still looks painfully guilty. He bites his lip several times as he stares at the floor, sighing deeply and frowning excessively.

Cassio and the King both watch him do this with concerned looks for a few seconds before the latter turns to the Governor.

‘I cannot imagine a worse situation to have to ask this...but what precisely is the backstory here? I have only heard bits and pieces of it thus far,’ Charles admits with a sigh.

Cassio mirrors his sigh and leans against the wall, bracing himself to start recalling everything that had happened to the King – right from the start, when he had been promoted.

That’s the point that Cassio begins from. This had been the event that first triggered Iago’s jealousy and villainy. Whether Iago had been feeling like this beforehand, Cassio does not know – as far as he’s concerned, this all began with his promotion to lieutenant – something that he, admittedly, feels a little guilty for himself since he knows how much Iago would have liked that position for himself.

The trouble is that Iago had never actually made his grievances known to anyone. He had never uttered a word of opposition against Othello’s decision to appoint Cassio as his new lieutenant. Not one word. At least, not to them. Now, Cassio suspects that there’s a very good chance that Iago had spoken of his complaints to Roderigo, who had been, at the time, his puppet, for want of a better word.

A few days after Cassio had been promoted, there had arrived yet more good news: Othello and Desdemona had gotten married [in a private ceremony] that very morning. The two newly-weds had looked so content together, their relationship seemed harmonious and unbreakable. Cassio had been exceedingly happy for his general, Emilia had been exceedingly happy for her mistress, and Iago…

...well, Iago had _seemed_ exceedingly happy for Othello and Desdemona, but privately, he was anything but. Nobody else had known, but he was actually jealous – jealous of the marriage. Either he had been jealous of Othello for marrying Desdemona, or he had been jealous of Desdemona for marrying Othello. Cassio does not know which one it is. As it turns out, there’s a lot that he didn’t [and probably still doesn’t] know about Iago.

That very evening, Iago and Roderigo had paid a visit to Brabantio’s house. The senator had been, unsurprisingly, asleep, given that it was actually quite late at night. But not for long. He had soon been woken up by the disruptive hollers of the pair outside of his window, and less than a few minutes later, he had been informed of Desdemona’s affair with Othello – depicted in such disturbing and derogatory language that Brabantio’s fears instantly intensified, particularly when he discovered that his daughter was indeed missing from the house.

As far as Brabantio was concerned, _Roderigo_ was the one who was making all of the racket, using such foul language and grotesque descriptions. He had no idea that _Iago_ was actually the one behind all of this, because the latter had made sure to hide himself once they arrived at the senator’s house. Iago had not wanted to be caught being disloyal to Othello.

Predictably, Brabantio was enraged. He had caught up with Othello, Cassio himself, and Iago just a few minutes later in the streets. He had his servants with him, and a street fight had very nearly ensued – but Othello had kept calm and level-headed. When Brabantio began accusing him, spouting one accusation after another in quick succession in his fit of rage, Othello had responded calmly and perfectly politely, and it was soon ascertained that Brabantio wanted to go to the Duke’s, taking Othello with him [as he had already been called for anyway] and voice his issues to the former.

So they did exactly that. To cut a long story short, Brabantio’s accusations got nowhere and Othello remained married to Desdemona. Then they set off for Cyprus.

The first day and half of the evening was harmonious...until Iago got Cassio drunk and then demoted. Then he convinced Cassio to appeal to Desdemona, and as soon as he began doing so, Iago started talking to Othello about his ‘suspicions’, even going so far as to frame Cassio by planting Desdemona’s handkerchief in his room.

His insinuations and lies got deeper and more grave, to the point where Othello descended into an epileptic fit due to Iago’s manipulative influence and his firm belief that Desdemona was cheating on him with Cassio. All thanks to Iago’s manipulation and truly terrible hints and imagery.

Othello’s marriage to Desdemona rapidly deteriorated after that. He hit Desdemona in front of people later on that same day, thus publicly humiliating her. And after that...he stopped her breathing by smothering her with a pillow, deluded into thinking that he was doing the right thing.

Iago was found out and captured eventually...but by then, it had been too late. Desdemona was already dead. Iago had already killed his own wife, Emilia, and had attempted to murder Cassio and completely finish off Roderigo.

His actions were already done, and so was the damage. Some of the damage was physical – but for Othello, and for Cassio himself [although to a lesser extent] the damage was psychological.

‘And that’s pretty much the entire story, although it is a briefer version of,’ Cassio finishes, sighing deeply. In all honesty, he cannot bring himself to recall the entire story. He’s included the main points of detail, and that was difficult enough to think about.

The King has silently listened to Cassio telling the tale, right up until the last word. Once the governor of Cyprus has finished, he feels almost breathless and his emotions seem to be building up again. Recalling the events probably wasn’t a good idea.

Charles reaches out and tentatively pats Cassio on the shoulder, sensing that the governor is not quite in the right state of mind at this precise moment in time.

‘It sounds like you have all had quite a lot to deal with,’ he says, his voice sounding full of condolences.

Othello, who’s clearly been listening to Cassio recounting the story for the last few minutes, has crept closer to them during this time. His expression is still guilty, but it’s now also etched with some sadness upon remembering the past, both the blissful parts and the deep, dark parts.

Upon spotting the former general close by, Charles turns to Othello and pats him on the shoulder too, his expression just as sympathetic as it had been during the meeting.

‘I do not doubt that you are feeling increasingly guilty for everything that has happened,’ Charles guesses, sighing a little when Othello nods his head in confirmation. ‘But please do be assured that I do not consider you to be a cruel man. I know you are a nice person at heart, and I am sure other people would think the same thing.’

Othello isn’t entirely sure what to say [whether it’s because he’s rarely spoken to the royalty in his life or because he just genuinely can’t think right now, due to the situation, he cannot tell] but he nods again, this time in a slightly more comforted way.

Then, a few minutes later, Lodovico finally finishes his hushed conversation with Gratiano. After a brief series of goodbyes exchanged between them, the former walks over to the other three, giving them all an unconvincing smile. The smile completely contradicts the rest of his facial expression – where his smile is attempting to be bright and hopeful, his eyes are dark and hopeless. This construction of his face isn’t supposed to be there. It doesn’t match and it doesn’t belong. It doesn’t fit the current mood, and everyone can quite clearly see through Lodovico’s smile.

‘Are you okay?’ Cassio asks [a little stupidly considering the situation] but then he genuinely cannot think of anything else to say.

‘Yes, yes. Of course.’ Lodovico waves a hand in dismissal but it is clear that he’s lying. When he receives looks of doubt from the other three, he sighs. ‘Okay, maybe I’m not completely – but we can only deal with one thing at a time, and at the moment, that thing is getting the truth from Iago, right?’

‘Right,’ Othello agrees, his tone of voice quiet and lacking expression. Lodovico turns and shoots him a worried look.

‘Othello, you are not still reprimanding yourself, are you?’

‘No. Absolutely not.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

Lodovico glances at Cassio and the king then, wondering if they’re any more convinced than he is. Their matching dubious expressions tell him all he needs to know. They are not convinced either.

‘Prithee, don’t blame yourself Othello. We already told you that it was down to Iago’s portrayal of things. He worded everything so viciously and exaggerated the facts. He preyed on Brabantio’s fears and made him worry about things that did not need to be worried about.’

‘And Brabantio never had a problem with you beforehand,’ Cassio points out. ‘It’s just because of how Iago depicted it. His words were the cause; you and I both know how he is with his words.’

Othello nods silently. It had been Iago’s own words that had formed his hints and his lies, every single one of them, which had culminated together into one big acid ball of resentment for the former general.

‘Alright. I’ll believe you, for now,’ Othello says finally, flashing a small smile at the others. ‘But only because we’ve got a bigger issue to deal with: getting Iago to confess the truth.’

‘How hard do you think it will be?’ Charles wants to know.

Cassio smiles dryly. ‘This is Iago that we speak of. The guy who declared that he would remain silent right after his plots were uncovered.’ Of course, the king doesn’t know Iago and therefore isn’t aware of how difficult it might be to coax the truth out of him – but Cassio and Othello both know Iago well enough that it won’t be easy. Their experience with attempting to do so just the other day had proven that.

‘So what exactly is the plan?’ Lodovico asks, leaning against the wall. ‘We’re coming in with you, but what exactly are we going to say or do? Have you got any recommendations, having recently seen Iago yourselves?’

Cassio and Othello exchange glances. As a matter of fact, they do _not_ have any recommendations. Outside of forcibly torturing Iago in order to elicit the truth from him [and even then there is no guarantees that would work] there is very little else that they can think of. Perhaps all four of them going in to speak to him is the best they can do, at least until they can think of another suitable method.

‘Well, we do not have any ideas ourselves at the moment,’ Cassio eventually responds uneasily. ‘As we all know, Iago is unpredictable and the only other solution would be to torture him...which I am sure none of us want to resort to if we can help it.’

Othello shakes his head vigorously, and King Charles looks similarly opposed to the idea despite the fact that he most likely wouldn’t be there to witness it himself. Lodovico, however, looks uncomfortable.

‘Governor, you are aware that the Duke may well commission the torturing of Iago if a confession is not extracted from him in the next three days, aren’t you?’ He asks quietly.

Cassio bites his lip. Of course he had not forgotten that fact...although it had perhaps temporarily slipped his mind in-between the sudden meeting, the sudden visitor, and the sudden arrangement of four people going to Iago’s cell at once.

Still, the governor did not wish to let on to Lodovico that he had forgotten, so he does his best to look convincing whilst adding, ‘no, no, not at all. Not at all…’

Othello says nothing, but Cassio can see in his eyes that the former knows he had briefly forgotten; in fact, it seems as though Othello had forgotten himself until that very moment, judging by the abrupt dread present in his countenance. The former governor discreetly edges up to Cassio and pats him on the back supportively. Cassio flashes him a brief, grateful smile before turning to address the others, intending to inform them of what they are precisely going to do. He is, after all, the one in charge here in Cyprus.

‘I think we shall just enter the jail-house normally, all four of us, as Othello and I did last time,’ Cassio tells them. ‘This is Iago we’re talking about...there’s not really any other options for us. Besides...who knows...maybe the presence of royal authority might encourage him…’ Cassio’s voice trails off. He sounds doubtful, and Othello looks doubtful. Evidently, both of them realise that there’s a possibility that Iago wouldn’t care less if a King was there – even if it were a King as well known as Charles II is.

Still, it’s worth a shot. After all, neither Cassio nor Othello know Iago’s stance on English royalty, having never brought the topic up during discourse with him. Maybe Iago would be impressed or fazed – enough so that he would be encouraged into telling the truth after all.

‘Admittedly, I do not know what Iago’s views are on royalty. There’s every possibility that he will be influenced by your presence, Sir,’ Cassio admits, addressing Charles. ‘After all, you’re powerful authority. Perhaps Iago might even feel a bit intimidated.’ The Governor of Cyprus assumes a determined expression, but inside he cannot even believe what he just said. Iago? Intimidated? No chance. Cassio is pretty sure that Iago has never felt intimidated by anyone.

But, again, it’s worth a try. Anything to try and get the truth from the former Ensign, really, because both Cassio and Othello want to be able to avoid the prospect of torturing Iago – and, just as importantly, they want to secure Othello’s position in Cyprus – as in, being assured that the former Governor will be allowed to stay rather than be forced to return to Venice, away from Cassio...and from Iago.

‘If convenient for everyone, I suggest that we start heading over there right now,’ Cassio declares, glancing at all three of his accomplices for their consent. Of course, he doesn’t really need this from Othello – he knows full well that the latter is just as eager to get to the bottom of this as he is. Lodovico looks a little hesitant, and understandably so after the subject of the meeting, but he too agrees to going over there now. The King needs no persuasion, being that he wants to try and help in any way that he can; he nods his assent almost straightaway.

Cassio checks his watch. The time is still relatively early, considering this meeting was held quite suddenly. It means that they’ve got a fair bit of time to try [‘try’ being the operative word] to convince Iago to divulge his secrets, whatever they may be.


	23. The Second Journey to the Jailhouse.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lodovico, King Charles II, Othello and Cassio head out to the jailhouse. They encounter a crowd, yet again, and have to go through that dimly-lit corridor and endure that...wonderful smell of it. How do the King and Lodovico take it, having not encountered the scent or the corridor before?
> 
> ***Spoiler: The question above makes it sound like something rather dramatic will happen to either one or both of them. It doesn't. It was a bit of an anti-climax, I'm sorry.***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll see that I made a failed attempt at naming the chapter. Apparently my chapter-naming abilities [if I even possessed any before] have gone on a hiatus.

A little while later, Cassio and Othello are leading the way towards the jail-house where Iago is situated. Although the trip should not take more than half of the hour at the most, this specific journey takes at least double that time because there are crowds of people wandering around the Cyprus streets, enjoying the bright and warm sunshine after the dreary gloom of yesterday’s clouds. Besides, it is just about mid-morning, a time where many people are often out and about. The fact that there are several people around serves to be a problem for a couple of reasons: one, many of them are interested in seeing and bidding ‘good morrow’ to Governor Cassio, many of them are curious [and a little wary] upon spotting Othello once again, and all of them are in awe to see the presence of royalty in their humble streets. [Lodovico is really the only one who gains little notice and recognition, but he’s glad about that, for he dislikes being in the spotlight anyway.]

With all of this being taken into consideration, it suddenly becomes quite difficult to walk through the crowds without some form of interruption, whether it be the bestowal of a greeting to the Governor or the King, a handshake with Lodovico from those who do know him, or the questioning of Othello’s presence. In fact, all of these occurrences happen more than once, and Cassio begins to wonder if they are actually going to be able to arrive at the jail-house before noon.

‘Governor!’ Someone from the throng calls out. They step forward, and Cassio instantaneously recognises them as one of the people from yesterday, whom had boldly and bravely voiced a question to him about Othello, _right in front_ of that same person. It is that one Cypriot who had not been as dubious as everyone else in the crowd had been.

‘Hath there still not been a decision about what is going to happen?’ The Cypriot asks, his tone slightly disapproving. ‘This person standing here,’ he adds, implicitly referring to Othello and making the former general feel even more uncomfortable, ‘may well be a danger to the island. He hath proven what he is capable of, has he not?’

Othello keeps himself quiet, though he hath half the mind to tell this rather ignorant citizen exactly what is happening, and daring him to question it.

Because this question is aimed directly at Cassio, nobody else can answer it. Everyone who is within earshot has paused in their tracks, and they are now looking at the Governor enquiringly, clearly expecting some form of response to the question that hath just been voiced. ‘Tis very unfortunate for Cassio that he has not really got one at his disposal at this precise moment in time. He wants to tell the citizens about what is really going on, but at the same time, he fears their disapproval and a possible riot. Making something up that sounds reasonable is the safest bet, but he cannot think of anything. Not now, when he hath been put on the spot so abruptly. One of his greatest issues with himself is his inability to form a coherent and logical answer to something whenever he is thrown under the bus _or_ put on the spot.

‘I...have not an answer to that,’ Cassio says awkwardly. ‘We...have not finalised all of the details yet. But we will have something sorted soon, I can assure you.’

The citizen sighs at the ambiguity, but nods in a satisfactory manner nevertheless before retreating back into the crowd once again. Cassio sighs in relief at his departure – never before has he been so glad to see the back of someone.

‘You did look a little uncomfortable there, Governor,’ Lodovico observes, arching his eyebrows. ‘Didst thou know the man?’

‘He approached me yesterday and asked me a similar question,’ Cassio responds, sighing. ‘I am sure that he is not the only citizen who has the question of what is to happen next – but he is certainly the only one audacious and brave enough to verbally ask it.’

‘They are all rushing you a bit, though,’ Charles points out. ‘It hath barely been three days since everything happened, if I am correct?’

‘That is correct,’ Cassio affirms. He shakes his head and smiles wanly in response. ‘The residents are probably like this because of the war against Turkey that was declared on them but four days ago. If’t were not for the drowning of the fleet, I certainly do not doubt that Cyprus would have been embroiled in a war.’

‘’Tis just as well that this place was not,’ Othello adds, trying to be as optimistic as possible. ‘I do suppose there is good in every situation.’

Cassio smiles at him sympathetically. He knows that it must be a huge struggle for Othello to think of something positive that had come out of his arrival on Cyprus. Come to think of’t, Cassio is too. He arrived on Cyprus, he had gotten drunk, he had been demoted...that was it. Alright, he was also promoted to Governor of Cyprus afterwards, but he did not _want_ to be, not if’t meant that Othello was going to be forced to return to Venice.

Speaking of getting drunk...the four of them are now approaching the alehouse that Cassio and Othello have both passed at least twice in travelling to and from the jail-house. Because ‘tis only mid-morning, the chances of there being anyone inhabiting the place are very low, let alone anyone being drunk, and Cassio dares hope that they will be able to walk past the place without any interruptions.

‘Governor Cassio?’

Someone’s voice echoes out from within the alehouse. Cassio turns round, frowning. That voice, although a little slurred, sounds oddly familiar. In fact, he swears that he hath heard such a voice relatively recently…

Then the source of the voice comes walking [with a slight stumble] out into the open. And it’s Roderigo, of all people.

...and Cassio resists the urge to kick himself for being such a fool. How did he not recognise the voice? He had spoken to Roderigo only yesterday!

‘Hello, Roderigo,’ Cassio greets the other person hastily after they come within earshot.

‘Hi, Cassio,’ Roderigo responds, slurring slightly. ‘What are you doing here? Have you come to have a drink?’ He frowns. ‘If you have, make sure that it’s only a small one. After all, last time…’

Cassio smiles in a strained sort of way. Why oh _why_ does everyone keep bringing the topic of his low alcohol intolerance up whenever they go near an alehouse? It is not like he has forgotten about his flaw – it is, after all, the main flaw that Iago had exploited when they first landed on Cyprus.

‘So are you here to have a drink?’ Roderigo persists, sounding curious.

Cassio manages to keep his smile in place even as he shakes his head. ‘No. I’m going past here for, um…’ he stumbles over his words a little bit and trails off, wondering whether or not it would be a good idea for him to reveal to Roderigo exactly where they were heading to. The latter had, after all, had some involvement with Iago’s plots, particularly since he had been Iago’s pawn. After a bit of thought, though, Cassio comes to the conclusion that it’s probably best if everything is kept confidential from Roderigo – at least, for now. ‘...we’re on _official business_ ,’ he finally finishes, emphasising the last two words in an attempt to highlight their importance.

Roderigo nods as if he understands before glancing over at the other three, whom have all been standing a few feet away in order to give Cassio a bit of space and privacy to talk to his friend. The former’s eyes light up in recognition as soon as he spots Othello, but he doesn’t say anything. Even Roderigo, in his rather-tipsy state, is able to add two and two together and figure out roughly why Othello is with Cassio.

Then his eyes skitter over to Lodovico. He frowns a little, trying to recall clearly who the other man is, since he had definitely seen it before. Then it finally clicks that Lodovico is one of the Duke’s messengers and a member of the nobility. Roderigo remembers seeing Lodovico with Gratiano on the night that Iago had attempted to murder him.

‘Hi, Lodovico,’ Roderigo greets, a little tentatively. It’s obvious that he’s a little nervous about addressing someone from the nobility – not because he’s necessarily of a lower class financially, because he’s actually still quite wealthy himself – but because it’s glaringly obvious that Lodovico outranks him intellectually. Actually, everyone present outranks him intellectually, but that’s a given, considering how easily fooled and manipulated by Iago he was.

‘Greetings, Roderigo,’ Lodovico responds cordially. ‘How are you on this fine day?’

‘W-well, thank you,’ Roderigo answers hesitantly. ‘And yourself?’

‘Quite well...I suppose. Thank you.’

Roderigo nods and then allows his gaze to slide over to King Charles, whom is patiently standing there and watching everyone communicate. He blinks, rubs his eyes, blinks again. Then he gasps.

‘Oh my goodness! You’re...you’re….you’re English royalty! You’re – ooh – King Charles the...the…’

‘King Charles the Second,’ Charles adds helpfully, smiling in amusement at how awestruck Roderigo seems to be. ‘Are you quite alright there? You appear to be stammering.’

Roderigo manages a nod, still evidently in awe. ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you. I’m just surprised to see someone of your status and authority here...in Cyprus. It’s a privilege to meet you, Your Majesty.’

‘Thank you – Roderigo, is it? Likewise. But please, do not feel that you have to refer to me by that title. “Sir” will do if you really do insist, but it is not at all necessary.’

‘As you wish, Sir,’ Roderigo responds. He’s positively beaming now, a direct contrast to his rather dull and depressed countenance upon emerging from the alehouse just a few minutes prior.

‘But wait – what are you doing here anyway, Roderigo?’ Cassio asks, frowning. As far as he can tell, Roderigo isn’t here with a group, celebrating anything. It’s a perfectly normal day, there’s no special occasion. From an outside perspective, it does seem a little bit like Roderigo has come here simply for the purpose of getting drunk and nothing else, which Cassio cannot necessarily say that he approves of – but he knows full well that it is not his place to judge.

Roderigo shrugs aimlessly, his gloom from before returning all of a sudden. ‘Not much,’ he responds eventually. ‘Just...oh, I don’t know. Drowning my sorrows. Whatever.’ He smiles unconvincingly and then delivers the best approximation of a wave that he can muster in his current state. ‘I had better let you get back to your business. Maybe I will see you later, Cassio?’

Cassio nods. ‘Definitely,’ he responds, his tone reassuring. He certainly intends to try and find Roderigo later, to see what on earth is going on with him. But he must not dwell on that now...he, and everyone else with him, needs to focus on dealing with Iago for the moment.

The group bids goodbye to Roderigo [aside from Othello – he decides that it is probably best for him to remain silent around Roderigo for the time being, lest he start anything] and continues to head towards the jail-house, which isn’t too far away now. Despite having visited it yesterday, Cassio, and doubtlessly Othello too, begin to feel an impending sense of dread and tension. It is not likely that anything terrible will happen necessarily, but somehow, visits to the jail-house are always a bit distressing. Maybe it is the fact that _Iago_ is the person that they are to be dealing with.

Less than ten minutes later, the four of them arrive outside of the jail-house, and just as Cassio goes to unlock it, he abruptly remembers the issues that he and Othello dealt with the last time they came here. One was the strong, stale and musty smell, the other was the lack of light in the corridor on the other side of the door.

‘If I may just warn you…’ Cassio turns to Lodovico and the King as he steps a few paces away from the door, deciding to leave it locked for a few seconds more. ‘The smell of this place...isn’t entirely pleasant, and there’s a corridor that you have to walk through before you reach the cells. It’s dark in there,’ he adds, sighing. ‘Last time I nearly fractured my kneecap and Othello almost fell over, so I would certainly advise a bit of vigilance…’

‘Thanks for making us aware, Governor. I am sure we will be able to handle it,’ Lodovico responds determinedly.

‘All it will take is a little focus and attention,’ Charles adds, his tone just as determined.

Cassio nods, grateful that the two of them are taking the conditions so easily. He and Othello exchange knowing glances as the former steps forward and unlocks the door...and thus immediately welcoming the revolting smell of the jail-house. It’s bearable – just. Though Cassio swears blind that the odour has gotten even worse over the last 24 hours. Goodness knows how Iago had managed to survive with that.

But then again, the aroma in the area where the cells are is far more pleasurable, so perhaps Iago is living it up instead.

Meanwhile, the four of them are standing before a significantly less-than-pleasurable smelling corridor, and although Cassio and Othello should be a little bit more used to it by now, considering that they had already experienced it once for themselves, it still takes them by surprise – namely because of the intensity of the smell.

Lodovico has gone into a coughing fit, much like Othello himself had done upon first witnessing the scent. That same person pats Lodovico sympathetically on the back as he attempts to compose himself. The King manages to stay composed and avoids a fit of coughing himself, but he’s visibly gritting his teeth. Obviously, the two of them are in agreement with Cassio about how terrible the corridor smells.

After the passing of three or so minutes, Lodovico finally manages to regain his composure, and everyone’s nasal senses have somewhat adjusted to the smell, meaning that they can breathe in and out normally without gagging [or coughing]. Now all that remains is for their eyes to adjust to the dark stretch of corridor before them, although it’s possible that this has already been done at the same time as olfactory senses were adjusting.

‘Is everyone ready to enter the corridor now?’ Cassio asks hesitantly. ‘Have your eyes adjusted?’

‘My _eyes_?’ Lodovico repeats, still gasping a little from his bout of coughing. ‘My nose has barely had time to adjust, let alone my eyes!’

‘Are you able to see anything within the corridor, Lodovico? If you can make any shapes out, even if it’s only a dim distinction, that means your eyes have managed to adjust,’ Othello tells him helpfully.

‘Hmmm…’ Lodovico squints carefully at the corridor before him. ‘Yes...I can make out a few shapes, though they’re certainly very faint.’

‘What about you, Sir?’ Cassio asks King Charles in turn. ‘Can you see anything?’

‘Well, I can see the dark,’ Charles interjects, half-laughing. ‘And a few outlines. But not much else.’

Cassio smiles wanly. ‘Unfortunately, that’s about as good as your eyes can get with this corridor. If you’re all ready, we can start heading through it now – but be as alert as you can. I am sure that none of us want to wind up with fractured bones.’

Othello, Lodovico and Charles nod in their agreement. None of them have ever so much as pulled a muscle before, but they can only imagine how painful a fracture would be, and how awkward it would be to fix it too. Although medicine and healthcare is improving...sort of...any issues with the bones are _way_ beyond the current doctors’ areas of expertise.

And so ensues the careful and cautious descent into the dimness of the corridor. The trip proves as difficult as it had been before for Cassio and Othello, and Lodovico and Charles are both finding it hard to not bump into or trip over random objects that are randomly strewn along the floor. Some of the objects are bigger, like crates, but some are much smaller and less easily noticeable, like some cloths lying about the place. At one point, Lodovico unknowingly steps on one of these clothes and almost slips over as a result – however, he proves to have graceful and athletic balance, since he manages to regain his footing relatively quickly without any damage done.

‘Art thou alright there?’ Cassio asks after hearing Lodovico nearly slip over.

‘Quite alright, thank you, governor – I just about managed to stop myself there,’ Lodovico responds, sounding relieved.

‘Seriously, thou hast quite remarkable athletic agility, Lodovico,’ Othello says, sounding impressed. ‘Hast thou ever considered–’

_Clang!_

An abrupt clanging noise from nearby sounds, reverberating off of the walls and echoing around the relatively confined space of the corridor before finally fading away several seconds later. The sound interrupts Othello’s sentence and makes Lodovico jump. Cassio places a hand on his racing heart as he glances around, endeavouring to figure out what the cause of the sudden sound was, but with little success considering the darkness of the space around them. He can barely make anything out.

‘Sorry,’ King Charles says from just behind them, holding his hands up. ‘I accidentally kicked some metal thing. No idea what it was.’

‘No worries,’ Cassio says, letting out a breath that he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. ‘Is thy foot okay?’

‘Oh yes,’ Charles answers, even as mild pain shoots up his right foot and makes him wince. ‘My feet have endured worse.’

‘Really?’ Othello asks, his voice tinged with surprise.

‘Indeed,’ the King responds, chuckling. ‘Anyway, without meaning to sound annoying...how much of corridor have we got left to navigate blindly through before we reach the cells?’

Cassio smiles even though it’s unlikely that any of the others will be able to see it. ‘We’re very close. The door to the other side is but a few–’

He suddenly cuts himself off by walking into the door itself. Clearly it’s closer than he thought.

The sound of the Governor coming into contact with the door makes a mediocre bumping sound, which also echoes throughout the dark corridor, though less so than the previous noises because it’s not as loud. It’s still a fairly noticeable sound though, judging by the reactions of the others.

‘Oh dear. Are you alright, Governor?’ Lodovico calls in concern from a short distance away.

‘Did you accidentally walk into the door itself?’ Charles wonders aloud, his voice also slightly concerned.

Othello doesn’t say anything, but he discreetly puts a hand upon Cassio’s shoulder [or at least, he thinks and hopes that the shoulder is Cassio’s, though he really can’t tell for the dark].

Cassio turns to him, just about able to make out Othello’s presence in the dim light, and smiles at him gratefully before turning to the others, whom are presumably still waiting nearby.

‘Yes, I’m alright, thank you – and yes, I did end up walking into the door! I swear this place makes us all practically blind. It seems to obscure all of our senses, like our smell and sight,’ Cassio adds in a mutter.

Shaking his head to himself, Cassio proceeds to feel for the door handle in the gloom. After a little bit of intent searching, he finally manages to locate the cold hard metal of the handle. Once he’s turned that sturdily and pushed the door open to allow entry, a flood of light from the other side lights up the dim corridor, much to Cassio’s relief. When he glances behind him to gesture for the others to follow him, he sees that they have similarly relieved expressions on their faces. Anywhere that isn’t dark and dusty right now seems like a miracle from God.

‘Here are the cells,’ Cassio announces, making a sweeping gesture around the room to indicate the rows of cells lining two of the walls. ‘Right now, the majority of them are not even in use, as you can probably see for yourselves.’

‘The citizens of Cyprus must be extremely well-behaved,’ the King remarks. ‘Shame that some of the people in England aren’t like the Cypriots.’

‘Are there a lot of criminals in England then, Sir?’ Lodovico asks sympathetically.

Charles laughs. ‘Certainly more than there are here.’

Cassio smiles at the remark, but Othello doesn’t do or say anything. It’s clear that his mind is starting to wander. His gaze is fixed on one of the cells at the end, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess exactly which cell this is.

It’s Iago’s cell.


	24. Iago's Second Interrogation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four of them [King Charles II, Lodovico, Othello and Cassio, in case you didn't know or have forgotten] arrive at Iago's cell to question him once again. Cassio and Othello are both pretty sure that the second interrogation won't work, and that Iago will stubbornly continue to refuse to reveal his motives, but with Iago, there's never any telling...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who reads this, and to anyone who gives it Kudos - I appreciate every single piece of recognition that this work gets, and it encourages me to keep writing it! If anyone would like to comment some form of feedback, or suggestions for something that could happen next in the plot, feel free to do so! I will always give credit to people's suggestions/ideas if I ever do use them.
> 
> I got the idea of Iago cutting off part of his tongue from a section in Act II Scene III where Iago states that he would rather cut off his tongue than speak badly about Cassio [or words to that affect. So, thank you for the further inspiration, Shakespeare, other than the entire play that I'm already basing this fan-fiction off of.]

‘So which cell is Iago’s cell, Governor Cassio?’ Lodovico asks, apparently unaware of the fact that Othello is staring directly at it at that precise moment in time.

‘Well…’ Cassio gestures to Othello and then points to the far side of the left. ‘It’s down there.’ He begins to walk anxiously towards it, with Othello and the other two following behind him. Once they arrive outside of it, they spot Iago in the cell straight away. Well, he’s not exactly easy to miss in such a confined space.

The villain’s presence continues to be above Cassio and Othello, in terms of how intimidating he looks. His presence is over Lodovico’s too. It’s even over the King’s, even though Charles is of a far superior authority to Iago. It just goes to show the power of Iago’s presence, even in the absence of physical power [his appearance certainly hasn’t improved from yesterday.]

‘Here he is,’ Cassio says tentatively. He watches as Iago takes in the presence of Lodovico and King Charles. He watches as Iago seems to quietly evaluate them. He watches as his facial expression...doesn’t change. It remains impassive. Well, actually Iago appears to occupy an expression of brief and faint astonishment upon taking in the presence of the King – but that’s all. It doesn’t look like things are going to go well.

‘Hello again, Iago,’ Othello greets him hesitantly.

The Machiavellian silently arches one of his eyebrows, as if inviting Othello or the others to speak some more. At the same time, though, his expression looks somewhat defensive, suggesting that he doesn’t wish to be spoken to at the moment. Unfortunately, Iago is the master of ambiguous facial expressions.

Othello turns to the others awkwardly, unsure of what else to say. It’s difficult to start up a conversation with a known criminal. It’s equally difficult to start up a conversation with a known criminal whom had belittled and insulted him just yesterday.

‘So, is this going to be “The Spanish Inquisition Part Two with Extra Reinforcements”?’

Surprisingly, Iago speaks without a prompt, though his voice sounds sarcastic and withering. Clearly he’s remaining unimpressed, as Cassio had feared he would be.

‘Iago.’ Cassio says, attempting to sound firm and probably failing miserably. He’s the governor and over Iago authoritatively, but by God is it difficult to remember this fact. Iago is just so _intimidating_. ‘I do not doubt that you are aware of why we are here once again.’

Iago snorts. ‘Of course I know why you’re here again. You’re going to try to get the truth out of me, and for some ridiculous reason, you think that the presence of Lodovico and British royalty is going to encourage me to open up to you,’ he adds witheringly. ‘And guess what? You’re wrong. Unsurprisingly.’

Lodovico shakes his head and frowns at Iago. ‘There’s no need to be rude, Iago.’

Iago smirks, not caring about his attitude in the slightest. ‘Well, you shouldn’t have such stupid thoughts, should you? Although I must say,’ he adds, turning to King Charles. ‘Even though your presence isn’t going to convince me to reveal anything, I am certainly in awe of Your Majesty. I am thoroughly surprised that someone of your royalty and stature has the time or indeed the will to pay a visit to a peasant such as myself. Perhaps I ought to curtsey for you, sir?’ Iago asks, his tone mocking. Although the first part sounds quite genuine – perhaps Iago really _is_ in awe, more so than he’s letting on – he isn’t in so much awe that he cannot still act sarcastic and biting.

‘Hmm,’ Charles responds, rolling his eyes. He chooses to take Iago seriously even though he knows that the latter is attempting to make a mockery of him and his authority. ‘I am sure that seeing you curtsey would be an astonishing sight to everyone here – but you’d best not attempt it. Those chains don’t look like they will allow it.’

‘Shame,’ Iago pretends to sigh. Then he glances over at Othello and Cassio. ‘So what are you two back here for? I’m surprised you even came back, considering yesterday.’

‘Well, it’s not like we have much choice, is it?’ Othello points out, his sigh genuine.

‘No,’ Cassio agreed. ‘Look, Iago...I know you’re uncomfortable with sharing the truth about why you committed all of this treachery, but–’

‘Don’t be idiotic!’ Iago cuts in sharply. ‘Uncomfortable?! _Me?_ Preposterous.’

‘Considering the amount of grief and suffering that you have caused these people, don’t you think you really aught to confess everything to them? They deserve to know why you did this. Besides, if you refuse, it’s highly likely that you’ll have to endure torture. Is that really what you want? It’s not pleasant,’ Charles points out, frowning and folding his arms. Suddenly, he remembers something. Without speaking, he discreetly gestures for Cassio to follow him a few metres away from Iago and the others, clearly with the intent of telling the Governor something confidential.

Luckily, Cassio catches on to the King’s request relatively quickly, and compliantly follows him a reasonable distance away from Iago’s cell. Once they’re both out of earshot, he looks at Charles inquisitively, wondering what the matter was.

‘Is something the matter, Sir?’ Cassio wants to know, looking concerned.

‘No, no – I just remembered something that I meant to tell you earlier,’ Charles explains. ‘I didn’t just come here to try and help you to get Iago to confess. There is another reason.’

‘Oh?’ Cassio asks, confused. ‘What was the other reason?’

‘I don’t know if you’ve been informed, but the Duke of Venice and his senators have decided to collaborate with England on Iago’s torture, if it’s going to happen.’

Cassio shakes his head, confused and curious. He hadn’t been told anything about Venice working together with England with Iago’s torture – but then again, he hadn’t wanted to think of the prospect of torturing Iago, since he was the one who was going to have to carry it out.

‘Why are they collaborating with England for this?’

‘Because...well, England has some rather...creative and innovative methods of torture, far more than Venice has. It has more contraptions and devices for the purpose as well,’ Charles responds. ‘The Duke has been keeping up a communication with me for the last couple of days through letters. He suggested that I come over here if possible to see how things are progressing...and see what methods might have been best, if there was the chance that torture was going to be carried out after all.’

‘Oh. I see,’ Cassio answers, sighing. ‘Well, it makes sense. But I do hope that we don’t end up resorting to torture, because I’m not comfortable with torturing someone.’

‘I can imagine. I’m not particularly drawn to it myself, I must say,’ Charles responds sympathetically. ‘Still, perhaps there’s still a chance? Maybe you might be able to get through to Iago today.’

Cassio shrugs, though a huge part of him is still very doubtful. ‘Maybe,’ he agrees as he and the King start heading back towards the others. ‘I suppose the only thing we can do at the moment is try.’

Upon returning, Cassio notices immediately that both Lodovico and Othello occupy uneasy expressions. Iago’s expression appears to be amused. He must have done or said something in the Governor and King’s absence, but what?

‘What’s the matter?’ Cassio asks Lodovico and Othello in a low voice. ‘Why do you both look so uncomfortable?’

Lodovico simply blinks rapidly. ‘You didn’t hear what Iago threatened to do, did you?’

Cassio immediately goes on high alert. ‘Threatened to do? Has he threatened you?’

Othello shakes his head. ‘Not us directly,’ he murmurs. ‘But...whilst you and the King were speaking, he threatened to…’ he pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing. ‘...to cut off his tongue.’

‘ _What?_ ’ Cassio and King Charles exclaim together. Both of them are highly confused and highly astounded. Why on earth would Iago threaten to do that? He’d only be doing himself damage.

‘Why would you want to do that?’ Cassio demands of Iago, the latter of which is smirking and lounging about in his cell, watching the conversation and subsequent reactions with amusement.

‘Simple. If I did that, I wouldn’t have to answer to any of your stupid interrogations, would I?’ Iago points out. ‘Here, why don’t I demonstrate?’

‘ _Demonstrate_? Iago, you haven’t even–’

Cassio is immediately silenced by the abrupt action of Iago producing a pair of scissors from God knows where. It looks like he got them out of thin air, actually – but obviously this isn’t the case. He probably got them out from behind his back. Nevertheless, the mere sight of the rather sharply-bladed scissors is enough to send shivers down Cassio and Lodovico’s spines, whilst Othello and Charles both send each other worried glances. Surely Iago isn’t actually going to cut off his tongue? Okay, it’s clear that he really doesn’t want to answer anything that’s asked of him in relation to telling the truth, and cutting out his tongue would definitely give him an excuse to remain silent – but surely that’s taking it too far? Why would anyone cut their own tongue off out of choice?

Either way, Iago seems unrelenting as he slowly brings the scissors closer and closer to his mouth, clicking the two blades together enticingly. It’s his own tongue, it’s obviously going to be significantly painful, and yet he doesn’t seem at all bothered with what he’s about to do. His eyes are glinting mischievously, his smirk is still in place. His icy blue gaze is trained squarely on Cassio and the others, silently daring any of them to object or try and stop him.

It’s unfortunate for Cassio that he accidentally left the keys to Iago’s cell at his lodgings in his rush to prepare for the surprise meeting earlier that morning, so he isn’t able to stop Iago even if he wants to. And anyway, he’s not entirely sure that he would want to even if he could, and neither are any of the others – the former Ensign is so unpredictable and malicious that there’s a very good chance that he would attempt to stab or cut anyone who tried to stop him.

All that Cassio, Othello, Lodovico and Charles can really do is watch helplessly as Iago brings the scissors closer and closer to his mouth. His gaze remains upon them, his eyes taunting them and his mouth smirking at them still. Then he parts the blades of the scissors and opens his mouth, deliberately in slow motion so that the drama and intensity of the situation is intensified. Then, he ever so slowly places the scissors over his tongue. For a brief second, his eyes flash, and the others can’t help but hope that Iago is having second thoughts about what he’s about to do…

...before all of a sudden and before anyone can say a word to stop him, Iago presses the scissors together over part his tongue. Under everyone else’s horrified gaze, a small chunk falls out of his mouth and onto the stone floor, making a revolting spattering sound upon impact with it. The chunk is surrounded by a little pool of blood, and Iago’s mouth certainly has some blood in it. It doesn’t drip lots, but it’s enough to make Iago look as though he’s a vampire who’s just gobbled a snack of human organs and human flesh. The grin that he gives them, however, is as eerie as any vampire’s. He makes absolutely no attempt to clean up the mess.

Meanwhile, the other four are staring at Iago and the piece of tongue on the floor in shock and horror, unable to believe what he had just done to himself. Othello, Lodovico and Charles simply stand and stare, silenced by their shock, and understandably so. Cassio seems to be taking the incident even less well. His face is pale with horror, his eyes wide and his hand over his mouth. In fact, he’s starting to sway on his feet a little, clearly unable to deal with the sight that’s before him. The Governor discreetly staggers over to a nearby wall, intending to lean against it and take deep breaths to help calm himself down – but, unlucky as he is, it doesn’t out work like that.

The shock and disgust and horror all becomes too much for Cassio. He passes out a second later, with the image of a bloody portion of Iago’s tongue gradually falling all the way from his mouth and on to the floor.

Because the others are still staring transfixed at Iago and his piece of tongue now littering the floor, none of them notice what’s happened at first. Iago himself does, because he’s watching everyone’s reaction, but because he’s lacking compassion and care, he doesn’t bother to alert anyone as to Cassio’s situation ahead of time. He simply watches the Governor fall to the floor, his expression inappropriately amused.

It’s not until the sudden sound of someone or something hitting the floor from behind them that the other three realise what’s going on. At first, they jump terribly, given that they hadn’t been expecting the sound. Then they actually look behind them to find out what’s going on, and finally they spot Cassio sprawled on the floor, all whilst Iago cackles with laughter behind them. Despite the fact that a small amount of his tongue has been severed, he still seems perfectly capable of both speech and sound. He barely even seems bothered with the small traces of blood that are still running down his face.

‘Oh my Goodness, can you credit it? The Governor of Cyprus is more of a wuss than I thought he was!’ Iago exclaims, snorting with laughter.

Othello and Charles glare at Iago as they lean down to check if Cassio is okay. Lodovico, however, plants his hands on his hips and regards Iago with a steely gaze.

‘Have you finished?’ He asks, his tone angry. ‘I think we have had enough of you passing comment just recently.’

Even as he checks over Cassio, Othello stares up at Lodovico in surprise. This is the first time that he’s ever heard the diplomat sound so vexed and agitated. If anything, that was more his father’s style – but clearly everything that Iago’s done has pushed him over the edge, causing him to channel Gratiano for the very first time.

Not that this has much affect on Iago. He remains unbothered and continues to smirk at the sight before him. Evidently, Cassio’s fainting act is an amusing source of entertainment to him.

Then the Governor starts stirring, much to everyone else’s relief.

‘Did something bad happen?’ Cassio asks, his voice little more than a whisper.

‘You tell us, Cassio,’ Othello responds worriedly, putting a hand on the other’s shoulder. ‘What happened there?’

‘Um...I guess I just got worked up. The sight of the damage, it must have been to much.’

‘Ah,’ Charles responds looking a combination of sympathetic and concerned. ‘But are you alright, Governor?’

Cassio manages a nod as he pushes himself into a sitting position, doing his best to avoid Iago’s disparaging gaze. ‘Yes, I’m fine now, thank you, Sir,’ he answers, sighing. When he goes to stand up, Othello gently but firmly holds his shoulder, keeping him in place.

‘Not yet,’ he says. ‘Give yourself a few minutes to recuperate.’

Cassio starts to protest that he’s absolutely fine now, but Othello gives the Governor an imploring look, silently begging him to stay where he is for just a few more minutes, if only for his own health and safety. So the former reluctantly complies, although he doesn’t like it – especially not with Iago still smirking and sniggering at him in the background. In the brief moment of silence, Iago takes his opportunity to open his mouth again, with yet another critical comment.

‘I was actually expecting _me_ to faint, considering I’m the one who was on the receiving end,’ Iago tells Cassio, shaking his head pityingly. ‘I don’t know. It was _my_ tongue, _I’m_ the one whom felt the impact, and yet here you are – the Governor of Cyprus, fainting as soon as you see one little slither of tongue on the floor.’

Cassio winces, feeling foolish. After all, Iago is not exactly wrong in his observations.

For once, Charles looks annoyed. ‘Stop getting at him, Iago,’ he interjects, shaking his head reprovingly. ‘It was only a natural reaction, and Cassio wasn’t the only one who found it uncomfortable. I felt quite disturbed by it, I must admit.’

Iago rolls his eyes in incredulity. ‘You lot! You are a right load of wimps, aren’t you?’ He answers scathingly from inside of his cell.

Lodovico aims a sharp look at Iago. ‘And I suppose you’re Mr. Perfect, are you?’ He asks, sounding surprisingly sarcastic.

‘I never said that,’ Iago counters. ‘But I know that I’m better at handling all of this stuff. Funny, really. After that, you’d think that I would be the one fainting all over the place like you lot seem to have a habit of doing.’

‘Nobody else has, and it was only _once_ ,’ Cassio points out defensively. ‘What’s your point?’

Iago shrugs, smiling wickedly. ‘It just shows that you lot are weaklings, really.’

Othello glowers at his former Ensign. ‘You won’t be saying that if you _do_ end up getting tortured,’ he mutters.

Cassio hears, and bites his lip upon the mention of torture. He’s immediately reminded that, if they don’t manage to extract a confession from Iago after tomorrow, he would be sentenced to imminent torture – and Cassio is the one who would have to carry it out! Along with the fact that he really does not want Othello to go back to Venice, he also doesn’t want to have to torture Iago. Given his...past experiences, torture is something that he wishes to avoid at all costs and whenever possible.

‘So, Iago...any chance of you admitting the truth to us at any point? Well, maybe now?’ Cassio asks hopefully, even though he highly doubts that their current visit has had any affect on Iago.

Cassio’s doubts appear to be confirmed when Iago regards him with a hard look. ‘You thought that the presence of high authority and the additional people were going to encourage me to confess, didn’t you?’

Cassio glances awkwardly at the others, whom all look just as awkward. Once again, Iago has guessed their intentions.

‘Well...maybe,’ Cassio responds vaguely, opting to stay as inconspicuous as possible. ‘But still. Haven’t any of our visits given you satisfying reasons to confess the truth?’

Iago snorts disdainfully. ‘Of course not!’ He exclaims. ‘The first time you and Othello attempted to appeal to me by stating your own grievances. And _this_ time you’ve brought along higher authority in the hopes that the presence of a King would convince me to confess. Why on earth would I give you that satisfaction, especially since your methods are utterly ridiculous?’

Cassio and Othello collectively sigh deeply. They knew that Iago would not be easy to faze.

‘Although, sir,’ Iago continues, turning to King Charles. ‘I am certainly impressed that you had the incentive and good will to travel all the way up here to help these misfits deal with such a lowly peasant like myself.’

Charles arches one of his eyebrows silently, choosing not to pass comment on Iago’s ‘praise’. Well, perhaps the villain _genuinely_ intended to sound appraising, but with his tone of voice and attitude, he only succeeded in sounding only _slightly_ genuine.

‘Now then…’ Iago glances at the four of them together. ‘I expect you all have better things to be doing than standing here and attempting to convince me to open up to you. So, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll leave you to your own devices as long as you leave me to mine.’

‘Iago, you haven’t _got_ any devices to be left to,’ Lodovico points out.

‘Nevertheless, I still wish that you would all leave me alone.’

Cassio exchanges a look of resignation with Othello. It’s clear to them that they’re not going to be able to get anything from Iago today, either. All they can really do is try and return tomorrow, on the very last day before their time is up, to try everything in their power to get some form of confession from Iago. Outside of torturing Iago in order to extract a confession from him, however, neither of them can really think of anything else that they can do – and torturing him would partially defeat the purpose of _getting_ a confession from him in the first place. It’s certainly a tough situation, one where there are very few options to pick from – and the few options that _are_ available just don’t seem good enough.


	25. A Heart-to-Heart and an Intoxicated Alehouse Inhabitant.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassio and King Charles accompany each other on the walk home from the dungeons. As they go, both of them briefly divulge to the other an experience that they encountered in the past - and it turns out that they can both relate more than they realised.
> 
> Then, they pass by the alehouse. When they do, they spot a somewhat unexpected inhabitant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually started writing this up in play format, with some changes to the speech...don't ask me why - perhaps I thought it would be interesting? Should I start to post that after I've finished with this?
> 
> My chapter titles are so inspirational.

A little while later, Cassio and Charles are heading towards their separate lodgings together. Lodovico has already parted from them, for his are in the opposite direction – and he’s taken Othello with him. The reason for this is because the former Governor was still lamenting himself over the death of Brabantio, convinced that he was partly to blame. Despite the number of assurances from Cassio, Charles and Lodovico himself, Othello still seemed to retain the belief that he was at fault, prompting Lodovico to suggest that Othello accompany him back to his lodgings since Gratiano was there for the night, and it would do the two of them good to discuss the situation together. It would, as the diplomat had said, hopefully help Othello to feel less guilt about his Uncle’s death. Cassio made sure to give Othello a spare set of keys to his lodgings, and bid the latter to lock the door if he was not back before he went to bed.

Thus, this had left Cassio and Charles alone, and since their destinations were in the same direction, they decided to accompany each other on their way back.

At first, neither of them says much. Admittedly, Cassio is still a little in awe of being in the presence of English royalty – but he’s also worrying significantly about what’s due to happen in the near future. The lack of a confession from Iago suggests that it’s highly likely that he will end up being tortured – and Othello will be forced to return to Venice.

Not only that, but the Governor’s mind is still reeling a little from what had happened just half an hour earlier. Cassio knows that Iago has never been willing to confess, right from the first day that they asked him to – but he had never expected Iago to take such drastic steps, such as cutting off a portion of his own tongue. It’s not like this had much use anyway – the villain still seemed to be perfectly capable of speech. But Iago’s action of severing his tongue had served to remind Cassio of what sort of things might be in store for both of them, should he fail to gain a confession.

‘You are very quiet, Governor,’ Charles observes suddenly. ‘Is there something troubling you?’

Cassio smiles wanly. ‘Oh...I’m just still in a bit of shock from what happened with...Iago’s tongue earlier,’ he responds. He sighs. ‘And, if I’m to be brutally honest, I really do not want to have to torture him.’

‘Yes, you mentioned earlier,’ Charles remembers, echoing Cassio’s sigh. ‘Is there a certain reason for this, if you don’t mind me asking?’

Cassio presses his lips together and burns slightly with embarrassment. ‘Well...yes, yes there _is_ , but...you would probably find it absurd.’

The King shakes his head. ‘I can assure you that I wouldn’t,’ he answers assuringly.

Cassio cannot resist a smile at His Majesty’s kindness, but he still feels a little uncomfortable revealing exactly what his reasoning is. ‘It’s just, my father…’ he trails off almost instantaneously, feeling silly. ‘You’d find my reasoning ridiculous.’

Charles doesn’t comment on the latter sentence this time. Instead, he’s frowning curiously after having heard Cassio mention his father. ‘Did you just say that it’s something to do with your father?’

Cassio nods, but refuses to allow himself to elaborate. Fortunately, the King isn’t asking him to do that – he is, in fact, just checking that he heard the Governor correctly.

‘I see. Coincidentally, something happened with my father that made me rather averse to torture myself.’

Cassio blinks in surprise. ‘Really?’

‘Really,’ Charles affirms, grimacing. ‘You might even know what happened, if the news ever travelled over here from England…’

Cassio pauses elaborately, searching his memory in an attempt to remember whether or not he ever got told about anything that had happened in England. Then, he vaguely remembers his parents telling him one time about the downfall of England’s monarch at the time in January of 1649. From what Cassio can recollect, the monarch was executed.

‘Your father wasn’t...the monarch who got executed in 1649, was he?’

Charles nods and smiles sadly. ‘Unfortunately, yes.’

‘Oh!’ Cassio responds in surprise. He’s immediately sympathetic. ‘I’m really sorry to hear that,’ he says sincerely. Then he takes a deep breath. ‘If you don’t mind me asking...why was he executed?’

‘It’s complicated,’ Charles sighs. ‘Mostly it was down to the conflict between the Royalists and Parliamentarians during the English Civil Wars. This “High Court of Justice”, of which had no legal authority whatsoever, sentenced him to death after hearing evidence that he was not able to call into question because he was not present for it.’ He shakes his head ruefully. ‘Needless to say, Cromwell and his Puritans were far from being my biggest fans during the 1640’s and 1650’s.’

Cassio nods sympathetically, astonished at how similar their issues seem to one another when he had originally thought that his personal issue with what had happened to his father was quite ridiculous. He doesn’t quite manage to pat the King on his shoulder out of sympathy, but he does maintain a terribly empathetic and commiserating expression.

‘I am so sorry to hear that,’ Cassio tells the King quietly. ‘That must have been awful for you and your family.’

‘It was, yes,’ Charles responds. Then he shrugs and smiles. ‘But enough about me. Do you think you are able to tell me your issue now?’

Cassio thinks about it for a few seconds. Well, Charles had just revealed something to Cassio about his own experiences, and certainly it’s quite similar, so why can’t he do the same? He feels a little more at ease knowing that he is not the only one to have suffered a tragedy like the one in his family ever since his father was detained.

‘I will shorten the recount for brevity, for we do not have much time before we depart. It happened when I was sixteen,’ Cassio begins quietly. ‘My father was accused of witchcraft and tortured as a means of interrogation. They were trying to get him to confess, but he held out because he was innocent. The authorities did not intend to kill him, but...a few days in, he died.’

‘I am sorry, Cassio,’ Charles answers gently, reaching out and patting Cassio on the shoulder, something which the latter had been too shy to do. ‘That is terribly unfair.’ He suddenly appears stricken. ‘This was not in England, was it? I know that my father was not able to suppress all the witch trials that took place during his reign, for all he made trials harder to instigate and was himself a sceptic…’

Cassio shakes his head. ‘No, no. It was not England,’ he responds reassuringly. ‘It was in Florence.’

Charles nods, looking visibly relieved. ‘That is good. But even so, I am very sorry to hear of your loss,’ he adds softly. ‘It is most unfair that your father had to suffer that, and it is terrible that your family had to suffer the aftermath too.’

Cassio smiles sadly at the King. He is grateful for the other’s presence and will to listen, and it does feel better to actually explain to someone his reasoning about his aversion. He has never done this before, not even to Othello, for fear that people will judge him or not understand him. But the King of England clearly did understand him, having been through a similar experience himself.

The topic of the conversation soon slides into general talk, passing comment about the current weather, comparing the duties that the two of them have to perform as King and Governor, and generally both of them informing the other of what it’s like to like in England and Cyprus. Consequently, the heavy atmosphere from before has passed, and the air of tension around them smoothly transitions into something that’s far more relaxed – not that either of them mind this. It’s better this way because neither of them particularly want to dwell on their past experiences anyway.

A few minutes later, Cassio and Charles are heading back past the alehouse during a brief lull in the conversation. Although it is only mid-afternoon, the sky is already starting to dim a little bit, and the lanterns that hang in the streets have already been set alight by someone. All in all, it’s actually quite a picturesque scenery – although night-times in Cyprus have often felt a little daunting and dangerous, namely because of the narrowly-avoided war with the Turks [and now with the added anxiety and stress about Iago], Cassio cannot deny that the island looks astonishingly pretty during the night, with the backdrop of midnight-blue darkness in the sky contrasting with the brilliantly bright light of the lanterns placed in various patterns around the place.

Just as Cassio is gesturing in the direction of the alehouse, remarking on the beauty of the scenery to Charles, he spots a silhouette emerging from the doors of the place. At first, Cassio wonders if it’s an animal that has somehow gotten loose, for the figure doesn’t seem to have mastered the art of walking exactly – from the looks of things, they’re stumbling all over the place and bending over to walk on all fours, just like an animal. Because the area is getting darker with the incoming night, it’s difficult for him to see exactly who or what it is at the opening to the alehouse. That is, until the unidentified person or thing crawls into a patch of light being created by a nearby lantern, to which Cassio is suddenly able to identify the identity of the person. It’s Roderigo – clearly he hasn’t left since they first passed by a couple of hours ago, and clearly he has only proceeded to have gotten drunker judging by how he’s walking [or, to be more accurate, _crawling_ ] around. His eyes, even from a distance, look bloodshot, his hair slightly wild and his face pale. He’s certainly intoxicated...

***

[I'm starting to run out of pre-written chapters now. I'm in the process of writing more, but for now, I'm going to split some of the pre-existing ones in half so that I still have something to post in the meantime. The second part to this chapter will be coming next week.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joke. I know the titles of my chapters are quite obvious...I probably sound desperate in my mission to produce engaging titles now. One of the hardest parts of writing fiction of any sort is coming up with decent-sounding chapter titles.


	26. A Trading of Sorrowful Past Experiences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roderigo turns out to be drunk. The King and Cassio attempt to ascertain what the problem is at first, but because of the alcohol addling Roderigo's brain, they don't get very far.
> 
> After the King leaves, Cassio manages to render Roderigo relatively sober, to which the latter then proceeds to reveal a story from his past which explains why he's feeling the way he is at the moment. Once this is done, Cassio decides to do the same, and reveals a harrowing tale from his past which explains his view of torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning**: Chapter contains a mild reference to suicide, although no death occurs. If you're sensitive to such references, however mild, I recommend not reading this chapter.
> 
> With the years indicated in Cassio's recount of his father's experiences, there's probably some inconsistency with the ages of Cassio and his father, but because maths isn't my strong point and I'm not necessarily a stickler for specific historical accuracy [much as I love history] I'm not going to try and work out something suitable. If it bugs you, I apologise, though please do try not to let it detract you too much from the work itself, since it's there to be enjoyed!
> 
> **To be specific, after attempting to work out the ages: I set Cassio's recount of his father in the year 1647, when I attribute him as being 16. If the present year that this fiction is set in is 1660, then this would make easily Cassio starting to push 30. However, in this work I've decided to portray Cassio as being about 23 years old [which I find reasonable since Iago asserts himself as being 28 in the play.]**

Charles suddenly spots Roderigo too, and peers over at him with a frown. He brings one hand up to his forehead as if to help himself see more clearly. ‘Is that Roderigo?’ He asks incredulously. ‘What on earth is he _doing_?’

‘Good question,’ Cassio replies cautiously. He raises his voice as he attempts to call over to Roderigo. ‘Roderigo! What are you doing? Are you alright?’

Roderigo looks up, apparently having only just registered Cassio and the King’s presence. His eyes light up as he attempts to hurry over to them – but, given his drunken state, he can only really manage a couple of steps every few second. It’s clear to everyone, even Roderigo himself, that it’s going to take him several minutes to get within normal hearing range, which is why Cassio and Charles make the brief decision to approach Roderigo themselves, rather than have him approach them. Once they do, they notice straight away that the other person has a rather distinctive smell of alcohol surrounding him, and he’s shaking, swaying on his feet, barely even able to stand up straight. Instinctively, Cassio helps to steady Roderigo by placing a strong, firm hand upon his shoulder.

‘Cassio?’ Roderigo says, unsurprisingly slurring his words. ‘King Charles II of England, your Majesty? What are you two doing here? You’re not here to get hammered, are you?’

Cassio bites back a rueful laugh at the very idea. He, for one, has had more than enough contact with alcohol just recently – and he somehow doubts that the King is planning on getting drunk unless he wanted to run the risk of losing his dignity and undermining his regal and authoritative stature. Then again, he is known as the ‘Merry Monarch’, so perhaps the idea is appealing to him.

When the Governor glances over to see the King’s reaction, though, it’s clear from the amused but indistinctly serious expression on Charles’ face that he has no intention of getting ‘hammered’, as Roderigo put it.

‘How long have you been here, Roderigo?’ Charles asks, sounding inquisitive and concerned.

Roderigo shrugs his shoulders, but not simultaneously. He’s so far gone that he shrugs his right shoulder before he shrugs his left, making himself look rather comical, although neither Cassio nor Charles laughs at him. They’re both too concerned and confused as to why Roderigo is still here, on his own, and why he’s...well, drunk. Surely there must have been a reason for him wanting to get drunk?

‘Only like five hours,’ Roderigo slurs, waving a hand dismissively and almost falling over in the process.

‘Five hours?’ Cassio echoes in shock. He shakes his head and peers at Roderigo. ‘Why so long?’

‘I’ve got nothing better to do.’

‘But why did you get drunk?’ Charles presses. ‘Surely there must have been a reason for it?’

‘Well…’

Roderigo looks shifty, staring at the ground as if he’s developed a sudden interest in the mud and the soil and the grass underneath his feet. He doesn’t want to admit his reasons for coming and getting drunk – if he has any, that is.

‘Well, for most of the day, I have been plagued with thoughts.’

‘What thoughts?’ Cassio asks, glancing at Charles worriedly.

‘Dark thoughts.’

‘Can you elaborate?’

‘Really dark thoughts.’

Cassio sighs deeply even as the King lets out a muffled laugh from next to him. Unfortunately, in his drunken state, Roderigo appears incapable of explaining himself and effectively conceding to simple requests. Admittedly, he hasn’t always been able to do this straight away even when when he’s sober – it’s something that Iago had soon found this out for himself after encouraging and manipulating him so many times – but then, the villain had had no problems at all sorting Roderigo out and explaining things to him easily and simply. Cassio does not have that same sort of ability.

‘Who are they about, Roderigo?’ The King asks gently, his former amusement having faded away quite swiftly.

‘Iago.’

‘Iago?’ Cassio asks, sighing. ‘Why Iago? Has he done something to you recently?’

‘Not _recently_ recently. They’re thoughts from...before everything happened. Before he attempted to kill me. And you.’

The King’s gaze goes from Cassio, to Roderigo, and back again. ‘He attempted to _murder_ you both?’ He repeats, sounding horrified.

Cassio unconsciously winces, not wishing to dwell on that specific reminder of the recent past. The blatant fact that Iago tried to take him out still shocks him as much as it did the second that he found out who his attacker had been. Beforehand, he would never have guessed that _Iago_ was the one behind it, but now, in the light of Iago’s true character, it does not surprise him in the slightest. But even so, he still does not want to think about it if he can help it. The mere thought serves to cause him significant irritation in the back of his right leg...making it, quite literally, a painful reminder of the attempt on his life from barely a week ago.

‘Yes. It was all part of his plots. I’ll...explain them later,’ the Governor responds quickly and uncomfortably. He then turns to Roderigo. ‘Why are you thinking about Iago? He’s imprisoned now. He’s...not really your friend anymore.’

Roderigo sighs deeply. ‘Oh yes. I know that. But still...I can’t stop thinking about him. He was...the first friend I had ever had, or so I thought. The first person to like me for _me_. But now it turns out, that all he was doing was _using_ me and _exploiting_ my stupidity, just like everyone who’s ever met me…’ His voice begins to crack as he puts his head in his hands. It’s difficult to tell if he’s started sobbing or not, but if he _has_ , he’s certainly being quiet about it. His shoulders do start to shake though, so the chances are highly likely.

Cassio and Charles stand before him, feeling both sympathetic and awkward. They glance at each other hesitantly, attempting to telepathically ask one another whether they should make any overtures – but would Roderigo see it as an invasion of privacy? Would he get offended, or even enraged in his current disposition?

Eventually, after a several perplexing seconds pass, Cassio hesitantly reaches out his hand and pats Roderigo tentatively on the shoulder, doing his best to express sympathy without seeming too intrusive or direct. The latter doesn’t say anything upon the physical contact, but his shoulders stop shaking which lets Cassio know that he’s doing it right. Meanwhile, Charles does a silent pantomime of applause for the Governor to which Cassio smiles modestly. It’s always nice to gain approval from royalty.

Once Roderigo seems to have calmed down, Cassio then aims his smile at him, trying to be comforting. But although the former smiles back, his eyes still display a bold show of misery.

‘Do you need to talk about it, Roderigo?’ Cassio asks, glancing at the other person in concern.

Roderigo nods in response to this, though he appears to be a little bit embarrassed about something or other. Cassio isn’t entirely sure what this is until Roderigo lowers his voice and whispers to him.

‘I can’t say anything about it now. Not in front of King Charles. I’m terrified of what he might think of me,’ Roderigo mumbles, so quietly that Cassio has to strain to hear him.

Cassio bites his lip. He wants to tell Roderigo that he has got nothing to fear – the King is a really nice person, and considering his own personal experiences, it’s highly unlikely that he would look upon Roderigo negatively for whatever he has to say – but the Governor knows that Roderigo would probably hate making his embarrassment appear obvious. But Cassio is torn, he doesn’t know what to do. He does not want to say anything to Charles out of politeness and with the risk of making Roderigo’s discomfort evident, but at the same time, it’s clear that the latter needs to talk about it with someone, lest he make himself feel worse.

Luckily, everything conspires to make it easy. As if on cue, the King peers at his pocket watch and then looks up at Cassio and Roderigo with an apologetic expression on his face.

‘I am very sorry, but I must be heading on my way now. I have several letters and a few other things to do in preparation for the next day before I leave to return to England. I will be seeing you tomorrow, Governor, to discuss...methods in advance,’ he says apologetically, subtly wincing as he briefly touches on the subject of torture. Then he turns to Roderigo. ‘I hope that you feel better soon, good sir. Try not to take much notice of that villain. You can do a lot better than him.’

Roderigo smiles thankfully at the King as he and Cassio bid him a temporary goodbye. Then, once it’s only the two of them left, he sags in relief, so intensely that he almost ends up falling against Cassio, whom eyes him worriedly as he once again steadies him. He spots a bench near the building that Roderigo has just emerged from, and quickly decides that having the other sit down on a bench would be the best option right now.

‘Why don’t we sit down over there?’ Cassio offers, pointing to the bench. ‘Then you can explain everything to me.’

Roderigo simply nods, allowing the Governor of Cyprus to lead him over to the bench. It’s quite a relief to be sitting down after standing up on unsteady feet. He’s ready to explain everything to Cassio – but his words won’t come out properly, not because he’s embarrassed and is stuttering, but because he’s so intoxicated that he cannot think very straight, and logical, systematic and coherent expression is way beyond him at the moment.

Cassio notices this. He doesn’t say anything at first as he stares into the distance thoughtfully, attempting to think of a way to somehow cure Roderigo of his drunkenness in less than a minute. Of course, this isn’t realistically possible, but he does come up with a solution that may help to stabilise Roderigo’s condition enough to allow him to talk clearly. He holds his index finger up, indicating for the latter to wait there for a few minutes, and quickly heads inside the alehouse. Although he’s never actually been inside of it himself, Cassio has heard plenty of words on the street about the place and the drinks that it provides; more than once he has heard members of the public singing their praises about the coffee sold by the alehouse, seemingly a bit of an odd choice considering that it is an _alehouse_ – but Cassio decides not to question it. He’s just grateful for the easy access to coffee in his current situation.

Upon heading inside the alehouse, Cassio notices almost immediately that it’s rather dark in there – there are just a couple of relatively dimly-lit lanterns dotted about the room, which serve as the only provision of light. The place has a rather distinct scent to it too, one that’s rather strong and somewhat unpleasant [although nowhere near as much as the musty corridor of the jailhouse.] The smell reminds Cassio of sour ale and beer, which shouldn’t be surprising considering the profession of the place that he’s currently standing inside. Still, he peers warily around, squinting at the floor and doing his best to avoid any possible remnants of cups and spilt alcohol that may be littering the floor.

When he succeeds in approaching the counter, he realises that he’s not alone. There’s a lone bartender behind the bar, idly reading the backs of the drinks and sipping his own cup of wine. The sight of it reminds Cassio uncomfortably of his own experiences with wine.

Just then, the bartender glances up. ‘Oh. Hello, Governor,’ he greets politely. As he leans over to shake Cassio’s hand, the latter spots his name-tag that reads ‘Diego’.

‘Hello, Diego,’ Cassio responds politely. He opens his mouth to ask if there’s any chance of him being able to purchase a coffee, but before he can get the words out, Diego starts talking.

‘I’m surprised to see you here, Governor,’ he says, frowning curiously. ‘Weren’t you the guy who got completely smashed after like a single sip of alcohol that one time 4 or 5 days ago?’

Cassio involuntarily twitches in irritation at the reminder. It’s bad enough that the alehouse itself uncomfortably reminds him of that godforsaken brawl that he had gotten involved in; he really could do without anyone else passing comment. Still, he does his best to remain pleasant and polite in spite of the situation.

‘Yes. Erm, can we not talk about that, if you would please?’ Cassio requests uneasily.

Diego puts a hand over his mouth, his eyes widening comically. ‘Oh yes. We’re not supposed to talk about that time, are we? Certainly not one of your most defining moments, was it?’

Cassio does not reply to this with so much as a single arching of one of his eyebrows. Upon noticing this, the bartender smiles sheepishly. ‘Oh. Erm, sorry. What can I get you?’

‘Have you got any coffee available?’

‘Coffee, eh? An exotic choice, if I do say so myself. Much better than wine, eh?’

Cassio smiles stiffly. ‘Indeed.’

He watches as the bartender swiftly prepares the coffee, brewing it with precision and speed before pouring it carefully into a cup. Once he’s finished barely a minute later, he holds the steaming cup out to the Governor with a smile.

‘Here you are, mate. Have it on the house. No need to pay.’

Cassio raises his finger in protest – he hates being given things for free, even if he is the Governor of Cyprus – but the expression of sincerity on Diego’s face makes him lower his finger again and smile [slightly forcefully] in acceptance. After he thanks the bartender graciously, he heads back outside, twitching slightly as the cold air hits him in the face – a contrast to the rather stiflingly warm conditions from inside the alehouse.

‘Here,’ Cassio says once he reaches the bench, passing the cup to Roderigo. ‘Drink this.’

Roderigo nods and gratefully accepts the cup from Cassio. Within five minutes, more than half of the coffee has been drunk, and the former is looking less out of it than he was at the beginning of those five successive minutes. His face has got some of its colour back, his eyes less bloodshot; he does still appear a little bit drunk and his speech is still somewhat slurred [though not enough that it makes his words incomprehensible] but that is what Cassio expects. He is well aware that a single cup of coffee is not enough to cure one’s drunkenness, especially not in such a short span of time – but it is just enough to allow Roderigo to think and speak coherently and logically, and that is all that Cassio really wants or needs from him right now.

‘Okay...now you are slightly less intoxicated, why don’t you tell me about it? Your thoughts, I mean.’

Roderigo nods, sighs, and braces himself. ‘Well, I told you before that I have not had many friends in my lifetime, haven’t I?’

Cassio nods, looking concerned. He doesn’t say anything yet because he does not want to interrupt Roderigo, but he is not sure if he is going to like where this is going.

‘I also knew several other people. People who were not friends, who did not like me for me – in fact, they did not like me at all. They despised me. They thought I was stupid and immature, and they took great delight in taunting and exploiting these shortcomings.’

‘Roderigo, you are not stupid or immature. I have not known you for long, but you seem...mostly...rather sensible.’

Roderigo smiles sadly even as he thanks Cassio for the compliment. ‘That is how it may seem to you, but you have not known me for long – and this is after everything has happened. Beforehand, I really was thick and immature. Anyway, Iago has reminded me of the people who used to berate me for these faults. Who used to put me down on a daily basis until…’

Cassio frowns anxiously at Roderigo’s abrupt pause. He’s biting his lip and looking uncomfortable, but the Governor cannot figure out precisely why. ‘Until…?’ he repeats tentatively.

‘...until one day I gave up,’ Roderigo finishes quietly, avoiding Cassio’s gaze and twisting his hands in his lap. ‘I decided that there was no point to my existence, not when I had so little to offer society and nobody who actually wanted or needed me around. The day I met Iago was the day that I was heading to a bridge to end things. But he...he is the one who stopped me. He made me feel _good_ about myself. But now he betrayed me, I feel the same as I did before I even met him.’

Cassio reaches out and places a hand on Roderigo’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. His eyes bear into the other person’s, his facial expression as sincere and serious as he can possibly make it.

‘Roderigo, you must never think like that. Everybody has some sort of contribution to society, even if they do not know it. You certainly do. People just did not appreciate you as they should have done.’

Roderigo once again gives Cassio a smile of gratitude, but he also laughs dryly in spite of the situation. ‘As if,’ he responds, sounding unconvinced. ‘It is not like I have done anything for this society. Name one contribution that I have made.’

‘You have been a lovely friend to me at a time where I have very few, at a time that is difficult for me,’ Cassio argues. ‘There are things that I feel I could tell you about, things that I could not possibly discuss with other people, not even Othello. I am highly grateful to have met you and you have already made a positive impact on my life.’

Roderigo regards Cassio with a sceptical facial expression. ‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Positive,’ Cassio insists. ‘It is of a great pleasure and comfort to me to know that I have got a friend like you in my life now.’

Roderigo still looks faintly unconvinced, but he’s smiling properly now, nodding in his acceptance of Cassio’s insistence. ‘Thank you, Governor Cassio. I am glad you feel that way. I do too.’

The two of them smile warmly at each other from across the table, and for the first time in many days, the tense atmosphere vanishes and is replaced by one of content and joy. Cassio relaxes for the first time in almost a week, and Roderigo looks happy for the first time in just as many days. However, the latter suddenly seems to have a question to ask.

‘I am sorry if this is a sensitive topic to you, governor, but I have noticed that you do seem quite opposed to torturing Iago,’ Roderigo observes cautiously. ‘Is there a reason for it?’

It’s Cassio’s turn to bite his lip and look down at his lap. He feels that he can hardly lie to Roderigo now, not after they just had a heart-to-heart for his benefit, but he is worried that the latter may not understand. Maybe he would find his reasoning absurd. Yes, okay, Cassio had thought the same for King Charles, but this had evidently turned out not to be the case. But ever since the catastrophe involving Iago’s treachery, Cassio has been a lot more cautious about who he talks to and what he tells people, lest they decide to use his words and actions against him at some point.

But on the other hand, Roderigo has been through similar experiences with that same villain, and he had just admitted his issues to Cassio. Perhaps it would only be fair if Cassio was to do the same?

‘Yes, there’s a reason for it,’ Cassio admits quietly. He goes hot all over at the memory of his father’s torture and subsequent death some weeks later, tears threatening to fall as they burn at the back of his eyes. He doesn’t say anything for several seconds, attempting to compose himself and keep himself under control, but Roderigo is surprisingly understanding and patient.

‘Take your time,’ he says softly. ‘Tell me the reason whenever you are ready.’

Cassio nods gratefully and inhales deeply. Then he straightens up and looks Roderigo in the eye. ‘It all started when I was sixteen…’

Cassio admits to Roderigo that, for a long time, he had been opposed to torture and even punishment, to some extent. Certainly before he left his England to become a soldier in Venice.

His morals had not always been that way, either. Up until the age of sixteen, Cassio had often never turned a hair at the prospect of an individual having torture bestowed upon them, as long as it was deserved. His parents harboured the exact same views, which were the views that had influenced his. They always had.

Although they firmly held these views, Cassio and his family had never encountered torture in any shape or form at all. They were considered a morally correct family whom seldom stepped out of line.

However, that reputation changed one day in early 1647 when his father was arrested on the suspicions of being a witch.

It turns out that someone in the village had spotted his father’s birthmark on his right arm. It was usually something that he had kept concealed from all public view aside from his family, but on that particular day, his father had been heading home from work, and as it had been a hot day, he’d decided to take off his jacket, unaware of the fact that one specific villager was watching him. They spotted the birthmark and immediately went to the government to inform them of what they had seen. It had been unfortunate for his father that this was during a time of yet another witch craze in England [Cassio and his family had moved there from Florence some years before], supported by an array of witch trials, in the years 1645-1647.

No less than a few hours later after the villager had reported the encounter, the authorities had turned up on their doorstep, demanding to see his father. When his father had asked to know what was going on and why they were there, two of the members introduced themselves as Matthew Hopkins and John Sterne, each allegedly known as ‘Witchfinder General’. Even now, Cassio can still remember the utter confusion and worry in his father’s eyes as he was being lead away by the said Hopkins and Stearne, along with an assemble of other supposed 'hunters' and colleagues, all whilst they were reprimanding him for suspicions of witchcraft. Cassio didn’t see his father for the rest of that day, and he was left feeling completely unsettled, anxious and baffled about everything that had just happened. It wasn’t until his mother explained everything to him that things began to make a vague kind of sense – but they weren’t fair. His father had been wrongfully accused of witchcraft, and by no assay of reason.

Everyone in England had constantly been mindful of witches and witchcraft. For some reason, there appeared to be some kind of witch craze going around for reasons that Cassio couldn’t figure out. A common and traditional belief was that witches generally sported ‘devil’s marks’ - in other words, things like moles and birthmarks. That reason alone had been why his father had been taken away, since he was unfortunate enough to have a birthmark that had been seen by a member of the public.

His father was condemned on the basis of being a witch. Cassio didn’t know the exact details of the trial, but he knew that his father had unfortunately been marked down as a witch one way or another. The authorities had decided that the sole evidence of his unfortunately placed birthmark was too flimsy, and so they decided to be merciful. Instead of burning his father at the stake right then and there, he was sentenced to endure several weeks of torture instead in order to elicit some form of confession from him. Of course, it was supposed to somehow be seen as a duty of the government, to protect the other citizens – but it didn’t seem that way at all.

The torture began to be inflicted upon his father the very next day. The options had been endless - from removing skin to slashing his back, crushing his fingers to crushing his feet. All of the days that his father had been sentenced to torture had been meticulously planned out by Hopkins, Stearne and co.…and Cassio was certain that, had his father made it to the end, he would have been a wreck.

The torture wasn’t intended to kill his father at all. It was simply to encourage him to confess, even though he had absolutely nothing to confess to. The torture went on for a couple of weeks as his father refused to yield. As grievous as the torture was, Cassio's father was strong - he was innocent and he maintained that he was innocent, even in the face of all the pain that he was forced to endure. Sadly, despite the courage and resilience his father had displayed, after two weeks of intense torture, the witchfinders informed Cassio and his mother that his father had passed away.

It had been an accident, they said. The person carrying out the torture [whom remained unidentified, Cassio had noted, although he was willing to bet that Hopkins and Stearne had had a hand in it] was supposed to be removing skin on that particular day. Unfortunately, they had been to vigorous with their approach and too much blood was lost.

The fact that his father had gone was bad enough, but the fact that an accident had been allowed without any real penalty seemed ridiculously unfair. It was a huge screw-up on the witchfinders’ part, but they showed virtually no emotion for it. As far as they were concerned, his father had brought it upon himself anyway.

It was at that point that both Cassio and his mother had changed their morals in regard to torture. That the prospect of torture was unsettling, and that it wasn’t deserved by anybody. When they so much as heard about someone in their country getting tortured, they would always feel sympathy and guilt, no matter what the crime.

Looking back, Cassio was sure that the incident with his father was what strengthened his motivation to become a soldier. It was also the incident that forever changed his morals. From that moment onward, Cassio was completely against torture no matter what. Even just the thought of it was enough to turn his stomach.

It was why he’s been feeling so conflicted and guilty over the procedures that Iago was quite possibly due to face in due course. Whilst a lot of his sympathy for Iago is no more, due to how the latter had treated Othello and the fact that he seemed to be unconcerned about Roderigo’s friendship with him, the guilt still lingers. He knows that Iago doesn’t deserve to be let off lightly – but even now, torture seems like too much and is something that Cassio wishes to avoid at all costs.

Once Cassio finishes recounting his experience to Roderigo, the latter occupies a sympathetic and knowing look. Whilst he is not the most attentive of people, he had noticed quite quickly that the Governor of Cyprus seemed to be holding a silent vendetta against torture, though he had not been entirely sure why. Now that Cassio has told him the reasons, though, it all makes more sense than it did previously.

‘I see now,’ Roderigo says softly. ‘And it makes sense. I know that Iago is a tough nut to crack. I pray to God that he does choose to confess, if only to spare you the stress of having to inflict torture upon him.’

‘Thanks, Roderigo,’ Cassio responds, sighing and smiling wanly. ‘’Tis difficult for me to properly convey my dislike of torture. I fear that people may judge me, or suspect me for being a witch like my father had been suspected of.’ He shakes his head. ‘But I do hope too that Iago stops being so stubborn.’

The two of them sit silently for several seconds, perhaps allowing the stories that they’ve just been told to sink in to their minds. Then Cassio suddenly seems to realise the time, as if it had not been obvious from the fact that it’s now fully dark and absolutely _freezing_ , as it often was in Cyprus at night.

‘I think we’d both best turn in for the night now. We should probably start making tracks, but…’ Cassio looks at Roderigo doubtfully. ‘Are you able to walk? I know that coffee alone won’t completely cure your drunken state…’

Roderigo responds to his question by standing up and attempting a few cautious steps. He sways a little and doesn’t seem to go in a completely straight line, but he’s still managing to walk – or thereabouts – without bumping into anything or falling over, which is a step in the right direction.

‘The answer would be “yes”, I would say,’ Roderigo responds before yawning. ‘God, I’m tired. I cannot wait to get home to bed.’

Cassio smiles empathetically as he too stands up. ‘I completely understand that. Today...has been a long day,’ he adds, whilst thinking ruefully about the events of the day. The surprise meeting, the meeting of King Charles II, the revelation that Brabantio had died, the trip to the jail-house and then the debacle inside the jailhouse...a long day, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to alter Cassio's background a bit. In the play, Shakespeare suggests that Cassio has lived in Florence for all of his life before coming along to Venice [at least, that's how I perceive it] but for the sake of this fiction, Cassio was born in Florence, moved to England at some stage - before he turned 16 - and then moved to Venice. Obviously, this would perhaps make Cassio's implied lack of knowledge in regard to English drinkers incorrect in the play, though if you consider the fact that he's actually got a low alcohol intolerance, it's unlikely that he'd spend much of his time at bars and alehouses anyway. But yeah, just as a little side note in case anyone gets confused or annoyed over the fact that I've deviated from the original play in terms of character background.
> 
> Was that rambling up there? I felt like I was rambling. I'm sorry.


	27. The Time to Start Planning.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Othello decides to pay a visit to Iago on his own in the hopes that the absence of everyone else will finally get him to confess. Meanwhile, Lodovico pays yet another visit and informs Cassio of a meeting that's due to be carried out in order to prepare for the increasingly inevitable process of inflicting torture upon Iago.

By the time Cassio walks Roderigo back to his place [not wanting to leave him to walk on his own, lest he fall over or get lost in his condition] and then starts heading back to his own, about an hour has been taken up. He arrives back at his lodgings just as the time turns to 11:00p.m.

The Governor does his best to be quiet when he unlocks the door to the lodgings and walks inside. Even though Othello went out to discuss things with Lodovico and Gratiano, the former’s lodgings are but five minutes away from Cassio’s, which means that the chances of Othello having returned long ago is quite high.

Cassio takes care to move around the lodgings so as to not make too much of a racket and thus disturb Othello, if he’s even asleep and if he’s even home yet at all. Cassio knows not if he’s either of those things – at least, he knows not until he intends to go upstairs himself. For the next few minutes, however, he tidies up the place, sorting out various unsigned bills and papers that suddenly become a pressing reminder that, as Governor, he still has a job to do, one that _doesn’t_ involve dealing with Iago.

He heads upstairs about six minutes later, practically going on tiptoe in an attempt to be as silent as possible. When Cassio approaches the bedroom, he finds that the door is closed, and he’s sure that he left it open earlier on that day. With that being said, he’s not at all astonished to see Othello sleeping soundly in his borrowed bed the second he opens the bedroom door. Of course, Cassio has no indication of what time the former general returned, or when he decided to go to sleep, or even how well the discussion with Gratiano and Lodovico went. Cassio is eager to find out, but not so eager that he has to wake Othello up right then and there. He decides to let the latter get his sleep – goodness knows he needs it after such an eventful and dramatic week.

After a brief period of getting ready for bed, Cassio himself is asleep too. It had, as he had already acknowledged, been a long day, and he had felt all too ready for the peaceful lull of sleep. Even though he had several worrying thoughts on his mind, such as whether or not Roderigo was okay, and wondering anxiously whether he would end up having torture in the coming days and weeks, he falls asleep almost instantaneously and sleeps soundly until the next morning.

***

When the Governor wakes up several hours later, the first thing he does is glance over at the spare bed, expecting to see Othello in it – but to his confusion, the latter is not there; in his place is a piece of paper sitting prominently atop the bed covers, clearly deliberately placed for Cassio to spot it.

At first, an intense feeling of dread seizes hold of Cassio as he evaluates the sight before him. The sight is that there is no Othello. Only a note. And although the Governor is trying his best _not_ to think the worst, he just cannot help it. He has a very good idea of what might be written on that piece of paper.

Slowly, Cassio approaches the paper, his mind full of foreboding thoughts as he picks up the note and begins to scan it. As it turns out though, it is not what he had been dreading at all:

_Good morning, Cassio._

_I hope all was well with you yesterday evening: I cannot help but notice that you did not return until after I fell asleep, which did confuse me somewhat – you had said that you were only going to be walking home, and that does not take too long. I sincerely hope that nothing bad occurred last night which caused you to return so late._

_I am writing this note to let you know where I shall be this morning, to prevent you worrying. I plan on heading out to the jail-house, and trying just one more time, on my own, to appeal to Iago. This is the last day we have; therefore, a substantial effort must be made. I know that we would usually accompany each other over there, but I do want to test something, as a last resort. Please do not worry about me, though. I will be back before the middle of the afternoon._

_Othello._

Cassio reads over the note. By the time he’s gotten to the end where Othello has signed his name, he’s frowning in total confusion. What could the latter possibly want to test? There were only so many ways to appeal to Iago, and as far as Cassio is aware, they have tried them all, so what could he possibly be testing?

‘Well, whatever it is, I hope all goes well,’ Cassio says to himself. But at the same time, he’s baffled. What could Othello be testing that requires only his presence, and not Cassio’s? Something that he doesn’t want the Governor to know about? Some kind of secret?

 _Maybe he’s going to ask Iago if he has feelings for him! Cassio realises._ He shudders involuntarily. He hates to think how the former may take such a question, especially if it’s _true_. Maybe he’d return silent once again...maybe he’d return hostile. Not that that would be unusual – over the last couple of days, when Cassio and Othello had visited him, he seemed to act nothing _but_ hostile.

The Governor continues to dwell on the possibility as he goes about his routine for the day. Personally, he’s pretty sure that Iago does like Othello in some way. It’s blatantly obvious, for all Iago had been able to manipulate everyone into thinking he was something that he wasn’t. But he hadn’t succeeded in concealing his feelings for the then-General – unless, of course, he was intending for these feelings to be picked up on.

The main issue, though, is the fact that Iago is unpredictable. There’s absolutely no guarantees that he will open up after hearing Othello confess his knowledge...and, if he’s honest, Cassio cannot help but feel a little afraid, afraid that Iago would hurt Othello. So what if he’s barricaded and shackled to a pole inside a prison cell? Unfortunately, Iago has a significant amount of power. Even if he’s unable to cause damage physically, he could probably do an awfully spectacular job of causing it mentally with his words. He’d done it before, hadn’t he? Only that time Cassio had been there to comfort Othello in the immediate aftermath. Now that Othello has headed over there alone, the Governor will not be there with him this time.

 _Pray heaven that Iago does not attempt to hurt Othello, in any way._ Cassio prays to himself. _Maybe, just maybe, Iago will drop his guard, drop his hatred and deception, and confess himself to Othello in a peaceful and non-damaging way._

Maybe. Very, very unlikely.

About half an hour later, Cassio is fully dressed and ready for the day, sat before his desk and rifling through the several pages of paperwork that he still hasn’t filled out. [Even as he completes pages, the pile still seems to grow. It’s like it is never-ending.]

He’s just about to start filling out yet another page of paperwork when he hears an insistent knocking upon his door. Cassio pauses, pen poised in mid-air, and glances at his watch.It’s barely 7:00a.m., and he hasn’t got any engages or social gatherings planned this morning, or even in the afternoon. He _has_ got a gathering with a few senators and aristocrats later in the evening, but obviously that’s not for several more hours. He’s not expecting any other visitors, so who could it be?

There is, of course, Othello – but then why would he have returned so early? Besides, he had a spare set of keys with him to the lodgings, so he wouldn’t need to knock. Maybe it was Roderigo – but it would be a bit random if it was him, and Cassio isn’t sure if the former ever gets up this early in the morning anyway. Maybe it was Lodovico, or perhaps Gratiano?

Cassio hurries downstairs towards the door, wondering who it is this time, all whilst plastering a welcoming smile onto his face as he opens the door.

‘Ah. Good morning, Governor. Good to see you already awake.’

‘Greetings, Lodovico. Pray tell me why that is a good thing? Am I needed for something?’

Cassio leans on the door frame [something that he has a habit of doing when he’s conducting a conversation at the door] and fixes Lodovico with an inquisitive look. Unlike yesterday, when he informed him of the meeting to discuss the death of Brabantio, he doesn’t look significantly upset, which is a good sigh. But he does look...awkward. Tentative, even a little bit sympathetic, and Cassio can sense that he’s about to be asked something that he’s not going to like.

Lodovico looks Cassio directly in the eye and bites his lip. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact…’ he starts cautiously. ‘See, it has been decided that a meeting should be held in advance of...you know.’

Cassio shakes his head, indicating that he doesn’t know – but in actuality, he has a pretty substantial idea of what Lodovico is going to say. It’s going to be related to Iago, and whatever it is, he’s not going to like it.

‘In advance of Iago’s...torture. His possible torture.’ Lodovico sighs. ‘I know there’s still one day left, and so the decision isn’t final,’ he interrupts, aware that Cassio is about to point this fact out. ‘But we thought it would be convenient to hold the meeting today, just in case...you know, in case Iago doesn’t confess. You know what he’s been like over the last two days.’

‘Yes,’ Cassio sighs. In truth, he knows all to well.

Lodovico looks at him in concern. ‘Forgive me for asking, Governor, but will you be able to handle it?’

‘Handle what?’

‘Torturing Iago.’

‘Oh. Um...yes, absolutely.’

‘Are you sure? It hasn’t escaped my attention that you appear to become increasingly uncomfortable whenever the idea of torture is mentioned, no matter how vaguely or briefly.’

Cassio smiles uncomfortably now. ‘Yes...that’s just a natural reaction. Sympathy, you know?’

Lodovico nods in understanding, although he doesn’t appear fully convinced. He squints at Cassio inquisitively. ‘Are you sure that’s all it is? It seems a bit more heartfelt than that–’

‘Yes. I’m sure.’

‘That's good, then,’ Lodovico replies, deciding to drop the subject altogether despite the fact that he’s still a little suspicious. But he reminds himself that Cassio is an honest man, and so surely he could not be lying in this instance. He is, understandably, probably just uneasy that the topic has been brought up in the first place.

‘So, when are you free?’

‘Well, I am pretty much free all morning, and some of the afternoon – I have a few engagements later in the afternoon,’ Cassio answers.

‘Then would you be able to attend a meeting now?’ Lodovico wants to know.

‘Now?’ Cassio repeats. He glances, again, at his watch. ‘It’s a bit early, isn’t it? I mean, I know it’s somewhat important, but is it really important enough to warrant a meeting effective immediately?’ He pauses. ‘Is it just going to be me and you there?’ He is observing the fact that nobody else appears to be awake yet – at least, that’s what he’s assuming.

‘There are going to be a couple of people – and planning an offender’s torture takes time and precision,’ Lodovico points out. ‘It has to be meticulously done planned in advance in order to ensure that there are no unintended consequences, like the death of the criminal and so on.’

Cassio snorts. ‘They didn’t bother doing that with my father,’ he mutters contemptuously.

‘What did you say, Governor?’ Lodovico asks in surprise.

The Governor smiles unconvincingly and shakes his head. ‘Nothing, nothing. So,’ he adds, subtly changing the topic. ‘Who else is going to be there?’

‘Me and you, obviously. I’m assuming that the King has already informed you of England’s involvement?’

‘He has, yes.’

‘Right, so that’s three people – and then there’s going to be father – Gratiano – as well.’

‘So just the four of us?’

‘We thought it might be useful to include Montano as well. He’s been the Governor of Cyprus himself, and he’s quite a talented soldier. It would be good to have the input of two soldiers, and not just one, if you get what I’m saying.’

Cassio nods, although inside he’s starting to panic. The probability of Iago receiving torture is climbing higher and higher as the minutes tick past – and it is a conclusion that he does not want to reach.

‘So we can count on you being there betimes? About half an hour?’ Lodovico is saying through Cassio’s haze of worry and panic.

‘Um, yes. You can, yes. I’ll see you in half an hour,’ Cassio responds, stretching his lips into the closest approximation of a smile he can manage. He waves Lodovico away as the Diplomat begins descending the path once again. Once he’s out of sight, Cassio shuts the door and leans against it, sighing. To be honest, he’d had the suspicion at the back of his mind ever since Day One [of Iago’s imprisonment] that the villain would end up receiving torture. Really, Cassio knew, and should have admitted to himself that there was no way that Iago would willingly confess his motives or his thoughts to anyone...ironically, if anything, torture was the only possible method to elicit a confession from him. But of course, this is the thing that Cassio is trying to avoid.

Unfortunately, the case is looking bleak. It looks like torture is going to be used after all.

 _But then, Othello is attempting to appeal to him right now, isn’t he?_ Cassio reminds himself, doing his best to remain optimistic, difficult as it is. _Although I’m really not sure how it’ll turn out. I have faith in Othello; I’m sure he’ll do more than his best to coax Iago into confessing – but Iago is a tough one, and I suspect it is going to take more than encouragement on Othello’s part to convince him to admit to everything. I do hope Othello knows what he is doing, and has not made a mistake by going to Iago alone._


	28. Please, Just Confess It.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Othello pays a visit to Iago's cell alone.

_Perhaps it was a bit of a mistake deciding to come to Iago alone._ Othello thinks to himself, stepping back a pace and observing the room warily. So far, things hadn’t been going as he’d hoped they would. The former general had turned up in order to try and appeal to Iago alone, but the latter had remained impassive and intimidating, so much so that Othello doesn’t yet quite dare to ask Iago the million-dollar question that may help him to ascertain more in regards to Iago’s plots:

_Do you or did you have romantic feelings for me?_

This question is the question that’s been burning insistently in the back of Othello’s mind ever since Cassio suggested the idea a few days ago. It’s the main reason why he decided to come out alone to visit Iago, so that the villain wouldn’t have a specific reason to remain silent in front of everyone else.

But, alas, the purpose is slowly being defeated, because Iago doesn’t make it easy to ask the question outright. As it is, he’s already been pretty silent today, which is unusual for him. Othello cannot help wondering if Iago has secretly made yet another vow.

‘You have been rather quiet today,’ Othello observes, speaking more to the floor than he is to Iago. ‘Is there a specific reason for this strange quietness of yours?’

Iago snorts. ‘Well, let’s see,’ he says, pretending to consider. ‘My tongue has been reduced to three-quarters and--’

‘But you did that yourself; you said you could still talk even without part of your tongue,’ Othello reminds Iago, shuddering at the memory of the slither of Iago’s tongue dropping from his mouth to the floor beneath him.

‘I hadn’t finished what I was going to say; that part was more of a joke.’

‘Joke? You? Okay…’ Othello responds uncertainly. ‘So what else were you going to say?’

Iago opens his mouth to answer, but then seems to think better of it, instead dropping back slightly. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all,’ he responds coolly.

Just recently, Othello would have felt rather disconcerted upon hearing a cold and distant tone of voice from Iago – but today, he seems to steel himself, take a deep breath and look Iago full in the face.

‘Could I perhaps guess what you were going to say?’ The former general requests tentatively.

Iago shrugs and nods. ‘Go ahead. I doubt you’ll get it right, whatever you’re going to guess.’

Othello smiles nervously and then laces his hands together, as if in prayer. He inhales deeply, then he exhales, preparing himself for the fallout that may well occur once he’s made his guess.

‘It’s got something to do with the fact that I’m the only one here right now, hasn’t it? You like it when it’s just us.’

Iago occupies a vaguely surprised expression, and for once he doesn’t bother to compose himself. ‘What?’ He splutters. He shakes his head before he actually manages to frown. ‘That’s got nothing to do with it! Goodness me, why on earth would _your_ presence make a difference–’

‘You’re homosexual Iago.’

Iago doesn’t dispute this; he simply stares at Othello, his facial expression for once openly shocked, openly vulnerable. A noticeable blush colours his usually pale and colourless cheeks as he directs his gaze down to the floor in order to avoid looking at the former general...his former love interest. And he still is. But there’s no way he can tell Othello that. He refuses to.

‘And where, pray tell, did you find that information out?’ Iago demands, addressing the floor rather than Othello himself.

‘Well…’ Othello wavers, attempting to briefly formulate a decent but true answer. He doesn’t want to get Cassio into trouble with Iago, for he had been the one whom had figured it out in the first place. ‘It was just easy to figure out from the way you were acting,’ he adds, deciding that he’s hovering close enough to the truth.

‘What actions?’

‘ _You_ know...you took my hand and swore to help me ruin my marriage to Desdemona by killing her,’ Othello reminds Iago, mentally wincing at the devastating reminder of his late wife. ‘That alone suggests that you were jealous of me for being married. And you frequently declared your love to me.’

‘So? That means nothing,’ Iago argues, his voice half-hearted. ‘I professed my love to Cassio too, but I didn’t and still don’t like _him_ in that way.’

‘Yes, but…. you did it more frequently with me. Besides, the actions you took when making the vows with me made me wonder about your sexuality.’

Iago bristles in indignation. ‘Those actions mean nothing,’ he observes. ‘I could have just been acting out of kindness as a friend, not a lover.’

‘But you were not my friend Iago,’ Othello points out. ‘You said so yourself. You had been deceiving me and _pretending_ to be my friend. I know you’re homosexual; there’s no denying it.’

Iago opens his mouth, no doubt preparing to jump in with yet another insistent objection – but then he closes it once more, apparently giving up, his expression resigned. He still manages to look indignant and intimidating, but it’s clear now that he’s given up his charade.

‘So, okay, I’m homosexual. What of it?’ Iago wants to know.

‘You have a crush too.’

Iago snorts scornfully. ‘Have you left your brain at home today, Othello? I don’t have a crush. What a preposterous thought!’

‘You have a crush on me, it’s been said,’ Othello answers matter-of-factly, his russet brown eyes boring intently into Iago’s icy blue ones.

Iago blinks and then begins to protest furiously, but Othello holds up a hand, attempting to be authoritative, but his eyes are pleading. ‘Please, just confess it, Iago. Make this easier for us both.’

Several seconds elapse. Nobody says anything, Iago doesn’t make a sound and neither does Othello. The latter is beginning to think that he may have to try another angle [though he’s not sure what other ways there are to try and get Iago to just admit it] but then Iago finally answers.

‘Fine. Yes, I do.’


End file.
